In the Dark
by cykania
Summary: Annabelle & Simone.
1. Chapter 1

I can't stand this, I can't, I can't. This half-life, not being able to touch you, smell you, hear your sighs echoing through me. Your taste, that sweet sexy taste that carries everything I've ever dreamt of and still never imagined, that taste of home carefully hidden. Waiting for me.

Oh God, where are you now? Will I ever find you again? Do you want me to? Or am I that too real fantasy best forgotten? I still feel you all over me, loving me, challenging me…mastering me. I can almost feel you still pressing into me, so sweet and sound, holding me down. Loving me back to you. Only you're that bone deep. Jesus I need you.

I have no context without you here, without the gift of touching you. With my eyes, my hands, my thoughts. Can you feel me across the day into the dark? Butterfly sharp dreams I can't guard against, losing ground in the heartbreak of your eyes with my every breath. I'm spinning away. Where are you? Please baby. Please.


	2. Chapter 2

(Pain. Ahhhhh god help it's here, help hurt everywhere. Why can't I see? Can't see can't see, can't move. Can't MOVE. MOVE. It hurts help hurt MOVE! Singing? Sing Mary sing. Falling honey. Gold. Slip and slide. Ahhhhh. Who? Who are you blue eyes? Don't leave, stay, please stay. You're so warm. Gorgeous. Slipping. Beautiful. Going, going. Beautiful. Breathe. Gone.)

(Oh thank Christ, it doesn't hurt. 3 out of 10 on the happy cup of pain. I can breathe, but I'm so stiff. Owww, fuck. Yeah, that'll feel great when it stops hurting. How long have I been sleeping? Jesus, I'm tired, my eyes won't even open. Was someone singing? Someone was here, right? She was here. It's ok. It's ok. I'm going back to sleep.)

(Ok, where the fuck am I? Some serious shit must have gone down for me to be hooked up like this, I feel like Robocop. I finally got my eyes open, it *looks* like a hospital room but way nicer. Umm, not moving so well though. What the hell? Why can't I move? I'm like a fucking twitcher, nothing is working right! Aren't there supposed to be nurses and shit in hospitals? Jesus, I'm fucking…um, I'm…who am I? Oh Jesus Christ, who the fuck am I? What happened? Why can't I remember who I am? Who's yelling? Oh God, what's going on?)

-  
"She's freaking out, you'd better get in there." The Head Nurse from her observation point into the screaming conversation going on in the hallway. There was the Head of the Ward, the Hospital Administrator, the Patient Rights Liaison, Security, the Imprint Co-coordinator and the Imprint herself. She couldn't remember when there had been a clusterfuck this bad before. Dealing with coma patients wasn't an exact science, but the one concrete rule was that whoever the first person they saw when, or if, they ever woke up, would be the same one there when they woke again. The Imprint would be present from through the recovery process until the patient walked out of the hospital. Something about the brain imprinting on that person, and classifying them as, "safe". And if exit coma patients needed anything, they needed that consistency. The nurse grimaced, so many had died before they understood the "First Visual Link" rule. If the Imprint wasn't the next person they saw, they just went back to sleep and never woke again. Ever.

(They came all the way through the coma and died from our stupidity)

Usually it wasn't a problem, as the only people that were consistently on this floor were nurses who worked here anyway. If they were the Imprint, it was just a schedule change. One time it had been an oxygen delivery man that they'd had to hire for 9 months after a patient woke up while he'd been changing the tank. But this…this was new. Everyone knew the story of this doctor, what had happened with her partner. But no one ever thought the patient would actually wake up, god the damage had been so severe. She'd never seen anything like it, and she'd been an ER nurse for 4 years before rotating to the coma ward. Whispers about this doctor had been commonplace, that it was just cruel for her to hold on this long. That she was slowly losing her grip on sanity.

But surprise surprise, the patient had woken up. Woken up while only the doctor had been in the room on her nightly vigil. And just to put the cherry on top, the patient had actually grabbed the doctor's hand, which was amazing in itself. Tactile contact only strengthened the imprint. Apparently, she hadn't been awake for more than a few seconds, but it was long enough.

Rubbing the bridge of her nose, the nurse tried to block out the tableau in front of her. The conflicts of this were enormous. For the patient's health, they couldn't just bar the doctor/Imprint from this patient. Nor could they even have another doctor or nurse in the room since the Imprint had also been tactile. Not to mention it would take God and his angels to keep the Imprint out of that room permanently, Security had already had to restrain her once. Shit. However, there was also a very good reason doctors never treated family members, or were intimately involved in treatment.

Suddenly, the Head Nurse heard faint screams coming from inside the patient's room. The Imprint heard it as well, and spun towards the door. Quickly grasping the handle, the Imprint evaded Security's grasp, flew through the door, closing it with a slam. As Security went to open the door, the nurse found herself throwing herself in his way. "If you go in there, that patient will die" she stated flatly. "And that will be on YOUR head." Addressing the shocked group, she continued, "I will not have some political bullshit like this kill one of my patients. Now then." Fixing them all with a steely glare, she said,"you all will take this to the Lounge down the hall. I will join you presently, but I will not have you upsetting my patients any further. NOW!" Cowed, the muttering group moved down the hall.

Leaning with her back against the door, she heard faint conversation from within the room.

(I'll be paying for that for a couple of years. God, I'm not even halfway through this shift.)

Resigning herself to a long night, she made her way to the Lounge.


	3. Chapter 3

Locking the door behind her, the Imprint sagged back against wall. Looking towards the bed, she saw that the patient had gone from screaming to hysterical sobbing.

(baby you're back I can't believe it you're awake, you're here I waited so long, baby don't cry I'm here, I'm here)

Moving quickly towards the still sobbing patient, she gathered her into her arms, muttering soothing nonsense. Burying her face into the patient's hair, she rocked her back and forth, offering quiet comfort. As the night passed by the sobbing gradually eased, and she continued her gentle rocking back and forth.

(I missed you so much baby, don't ever leave me again baby please don't)

Gradually as the patient quieted, she wearily looked up from the doctors embrace and stuttered, "I know I just lost it right now, and I don't mean to sound ungrateful, thanks and all…but…um…who are you? I mean, I remembered I'm Annabelle…uh…hi…but…you were here before right? You look familiar…your eyes…" Unnerved at the continued silence coming from the doctor, the patient stumbled to a halt.

Shocked blue eyes stared at Annabelle before gently leaning her back into her pillow. Wearily the doctor slumped down into a nearby bedside chair.

(Oh no. Oh god no.)

After a few minutes where Annabelle grew increasingly restless, the doctor abruptly sat up straight and began to speak quietly.

"Annabelle, my name is Dr. Simone Bradley. I'm your Imprint, but we'll get more into that later. You're at Denver General Hospital in Denver, Colorado. You were in an accident and were seriously injured. Right now it's really important for you to rest so we'll keep this short, but before you do, there are a few questions I need to ask, ok?"

Seeing Annabelle's tired nod of assent, Simone continued. "Annabelle, how old are you?"

"17".

"What year is it?"

"2006."

"Where were you born?"

"Monterey."

"Annabelle, what's my name?"

"Umm, you just told me. Dr. Simone Bradley"

"What is the name of the hospital you're in?"

Rolling her eyes, Annabelle replied, "Denver General Hospital."

Eyeing the now silent doctor curiously, Annabelle ventured, "these are kinda easy Dr. Bradley. The President is Georgie Bush, that creepy Iranian guy just spoke in New York, and it's almost my birthday. So…you can ask me the post kindergarten questions if you want."

Pausing and visibly pale, Simone continued. "Ok then Annabelle, last question. What is the last thing you remember? If it doesn't come to you immediately that's ok, just relax and try to think back".

Sighing, Annabelle closed her eyes and said, "I remember this morning. I was dropped off at my new school. Again. It's some nunnery in California. I was waiting for someone to show me where my room was, um...I had all my stuff on the curb with me. Oh yeah, there was this kinda cute girlie girl that I talked to…Kristie? Krista? Something like that." Opening her eyes and yawning, she said, "So Dr. Bradley, what's an Imprint anyway? Sounds weird."

Standing, Simone walked to the window and looked out. "There'll be time enough for us to go over that tomorrow, you need your rest. I'll stay with you until you fall asleep."

"Um, okaaayy. Whatever." Yawning again, Annabelle was asleep within minutes.

-  
Simone kept her vigil by the window long after she knew Annabelle was asleep. Shaking badly, she stumbled her way to the door, barely making it past some orphaned trays without knocking them over. Using the peephole, she found the hallway outside the room clear. Cautiously opening the door, she used her thumbprint verification to program the door to open only for her.

"Order Confirmed. Imprint division authority, Level 5. Bradley, Simone A."

As the biolock accepted her authority, she tried to get a grasp on the thoughts rolling through her mind.

(Okay. Breathe Bradley. You knew this was possible after the…after the accident. They said it was a possibility._)_

Snarling past a startled orderly, she continued to her office.

(Possible yes. But I hoped…and the surgeries went so well…they said the damage was under control…bastards…She doesn't remember me. Annabelle, god! SHE DOESN'T FUCKING KNOW ME!_)_

Throwing open the door to her office, she slammed it behind her. Stalking over to her desk, she yanked out a drawer, upended the contents all over, and frantically pawed through the jumble. In a blind fury, she continued the pillage of her desk as her rage consumed her.

(Where the fuck is it? I need it!)

"FUCK!" She screamed in frustration. Kicking her chair over, she suddenly spotted her prey, a small black case nestled under some old case notes. Shaking hands unzipping the package, she quickly dissolved two of the enclosed tablets in a small cylinder,

(the more the merrier)

turning the solution a milky blue. Clicking the cartridge into the available syringe, she whipped off her belt one handed and tightened it in a loop around her arm. Pressing the syringe against the popping vein, she briefly hesitated, and crossed over to the door. Locking it with a, "Do Not Disturb-Testing" message displayed on the monitor outside, she plunged the syringe into her waiting vein and watched the blue fluid seep with blood before emptying into her arm.

Dropping the now empty syringe, her legs gave way as she fell into her ancient leather couch.

Hoarsely, Simone said into the air, "personal records. Activate record dated 02-14-2014. Audio only. Loop mode".

Sudden sounds of laughter filled the still office, interrupted by Annabelle's voice, "Simone! Simone baby, put that down. We have to get ready. Baby, we don't have time! Baby, c'mon. Oh don't give me that pout. Yes you do too pout! C'mon baby… What's that look for? What? For me? Simone, they're beautiful! Oh sweetheart, I can't believe you! Sneak! You're so sweet! I love you…Happy Valentine's Day to you too baby, you'll get your present later, promise…I love you…c'mere baby…I love you…mmmm…love you…Simone! Simone baby, put that down. We have to get ready…


	4. Chapter 4

**2014**

Annabelle…

"Si…beau…eak! Hap…baby…ise…bab…love…"

"Simo…pu…ready….too po…For m…beautif…sweet…Happy Val…presen…later, love yo…"

"Simone, they're beautiful!" Annabelle said softly, gazing at the perfect bouquet of roses with happiness. Watching Annabelle continue talking, Simone briefly lost track of what she was saying, gazing lovingly at her wife with a small smile on her lips.

(My wife. Even after 4 years, I still can't believe this brilliant, beautiful woman is mine. The whole world knows her, and she chose me. Me. How many times do you thank God for a gift that big?)

Simone was brought suddenly back to the present as Annabelle carefully placed the roses on their bureau and launched herself into Simone's arms. Startled, Simone dropped the recording device to the floor, and hugged Annabelle tightly to her. Gently swaying back and forth, holding her close, Simone said softly, "Belle, I don't know if you know the name of that rose, but I saw it and it seemed appropriate. For us." Growing shy, she stopped and kissed behind a nearby ear.

Leaning back, Annabelle gazed up at her lover, requesting with her eyes she finish.

Escaping Annabelle's gaze and concentrating on the floor, Simone caught hold of her deserting courage and whispered, "They just seemed perfect to me. They…they're called Fire and Ice, so different but a perfect mix. Just like us." Hearing nothing but silence, Simone's courage crumbled.

(God, I can run an entire surgical department, do 18 hour operations, but I can't get the right Valentine's Day present. Good job Bradley. Maybe next…)

A warm hand suddenly cupped her chin, demanding she look up. Hesitantly she obeyed, to be greeted by loving blue eyes and soft lips that immediately captured her own. Groaning, Simone deepened the kiss, lost in the touch and taste of Annabelle. Pressing her against the wall, Simone strove to get as close as possible.

(My Belle, my beautiful Annabelle)

"I love you so" she breathed into the small space between them, watching Annabelle's face blossom into a smile at the words. Recapturing her lover's lips, she stroked her hands under Annabelle's shirt, lightly grazing across the nipples held within. Feeling Annabelle's frustrated attempts to unbutton her shirt,

(Clothes, fucking things)

she quickly stepped back and with a quick jerk ripped it off, buttons spraying to the floor. Grinning back at Annabelle's laughing, "Impatient much?", she surprised her wife by treating her own shirt to the same, dropping the rags to the floor.

(My god she's so beautiful)

Dropping to her knees while keeping Annabelle pressed back against the wall, she traced the fine definition of stomach muscle flowing under her fingertips and tongue. Hearing Annabelle moan above her, and hands trace urgently through her hair she smiled

(not yet baby)

and began to lick her way down.

Coming to the first button of Annabelle's jeans, she grasped the worn denim with her teeth and jerked it free. Nibbling the soft skin emerging underneath, she continued down Annabelle's body. She was at the fourth button before hearing a strangled, "Simone". Looking up, she found her lover biting her bottom lip, the depths of her eyes swirling with lust and love. Stroking Simone's cheek, Annabelle begged, "Please."

Growling at the look in Annabelle's eyes, Simone jerked off her lover's jeans, and stood. With one smooth motion, she grabbed Annabelle by the hips, picked her up and pressed her against the wall. Quickly wrapping her legs around Simone's hips, Annabelle groaned as she rubbed against Simone's stomach. Reaching between them, Simone sank three fingers deeply into her lover, hearing Annabelle gasp and bear down in pleasure.

(so wet so ready love you)

With her arms wrapped around Simone's neck, Annabelle's hips rolled into a rhythm that Simone continued. Sliding in and out of her lover, Simone felt Annabelle begin to tighten around her. Knowing she was close, Simone sped up her pace, delicately curled inside her and pressed down with the heel of her hand. Annabelle came with a scream, eyes rolling back into her head as she collapsed against her wife.

As she leaned into her lover, Simone continued to kiss and nuzzle available skin within reach. Breathing hard and still holding a limp Annabelle wrapped around her, Simone walked them over to the nearby bed. She gently spilled Annabelle onto the sheets, undressed and turned off the lights before slipping in beside her. Stretching out on her back, Simone smiled as she felt Annabelle immediately shift back into her embrace. Pulling the covers over them both, she kissed Annabelle and said, "Happy Valentine's Day darling".

"Simone?"

"Hmmm?"

"Do you think we'll ever actually make it to the bed?"

Laughing, they snuggled together into sleep.

"…Simone"

"…love you…Simone…"

(Annabelle?)

"Simone!"

"Annabelle?"

Jerking upright, Simone blinked blearily into the dim light of her office. Realizing that her brief shout had paused the audio loop, she wearily sat up. As she looked around at the remains of her trashed office, she saw that only an hour had passed. One measly hour. Slumping back into the couch, she rested her disheveled head in her hands.

(I can't do this. There is no way. How am I supposed to be a stranger to her? Deny everything that ever happened between us?)

Feeling a prickling run down her arms, Simone sighed.

(Academic anyway until I'm done with the backwash. Shit.)

Feeling a wave of tension drag down her body, she dug her hands between the cushions. Wrapping the first restraint over her shins, she secured the second over her thighs just as the first soft wave of pain wavered down her spine. Working faster now, she secured the straps over her hips and ribs. Working her shoulders through the built in loops, she tucked her forehead into its strap just as the first serious spasm hit.

Gritting her teeth, she said, "Play…Punk Kite…track Painkiller…key input stop only...volume 14…loop track!"

As the music blared throughout her office, Simone knew she had only seconds. Quickly inserting the padded mouth guard she locked her wrists into the sleeves prepared for them. Just as her lips closed over the guard, waves of agony overcame her as every muscle in her body began to spasm. As her head slammed back and her body began to bow in a rictus of pain, she began to scream.

(...Annabelle...)


	5. Chapter 5

Glancing impatiently at her watch, Head Nurse McConnell stood outside the Lounge near the main Nurse's Station. She had convinced the administrative pack of hyenas that further discussion was futile until Simone had finished her initial interview with Annabelle. However, that had been two and a half hours ago, and the reassembled group inside was growing increasingly restless.

"Page her again" she snapped to the nurse behind the desk. They had already paged Simone 7 times, called her office, Surgery, Pharmacy, and the ICU. She had even checked the remote camera in Annabelle's room, but all she saw was the patient alone, sleeping peacefully. For god's sake, she had residents going through linen closets checking for the woman. Every department was under orders to contact her immediately if they saw her. What was beginning to make her worry is that there was no word. Nothing. There also wasn't a record of her leaving the hospital, so she had to be here somewhere. An orderly had seen her storm away from Annabelle's room, and that was it. Frowning, McConnell thought back to the screaming match outside Annabelle's room.

(Simone had just looked so…absent before she had charged into that room…I'm worried…I have this gut feeling…dammit…Annabelle waking undoubtedly sent her a little shocky but…something…something's off…something's wrong.)

Reluctantly, she concluded she had no choice. Turning to the station nurse, she sighed and said, "Contact Security and request bio-signature location immediately. My authorization. Page me when they have her location". Seeing the startled look the nurse shot her, she glared in return until the uppity girl's eyes dropped. McConnell hated to do this. It instigated a huge amount of paperwork and automatically caused a Security inquiry, since the use of bio-signature locating was always a last alternative. Usually pissed the locatee off something fierce as well, and this doctor, well…her temper was damn near legendary already.

(Guess I might as well end this day with a bang. Nothing like poking the top Neurosurgeon in the nation with a stick.)

Sighing, McConnell rubbed her temples trying to stave off the impending headache.

(Great)

"Keep paging Dr. Bradley every 3 minutes. Send the refreshments into the Lounge when they arrive. If they ask, which I doubt they'll take time out of their sniping for, I'm getting coffee. Notify me immediately, and NO ONE else, when Security has her location". Seeing the nurse nod frantically, McConnell decided to check Simone's office on the off chance she had stopped by there after the last page. Squaring her shoulders, McConnell headed down the corridor.

(Buzzing. What the hell?)

Slowly regaining consciousness, Simone groaned and feebly spat out the mouth guard. Opening her eyes, she tried to concentrate above the music still blaring into her office.

(It's getting bad now Bradley the backwash snap crackle pop you know what happens next what always happens next watched it live it can you remember her yet can you forget her yet forget them yet her Belle your Annabelle she forgot you she's never coming back never never never coming back stranger forever)

Awkwardly twisting her shoulders out of their confinement, Simone began to release the rest of her body from the couch. Popping the last catch over her shins, she overbalanced and fell to the floor with a pained grunt. Lacking the strength to move further yet, she stared at the ceiling before calmly noticing she had new fabric burns etched into her wrists from the straps.

(At least this time it isn't my fucking forehead. That was awkward. Bicycling accident indeed.)

Keeping secrets had always been a way of life for Simone Bradley. That she was an addict to Memoral was just another file in her mental drawer. Something to keep track of, contemplate, and wonder professionally how long it would take to kill her. Thinking back, she remembered the first time she had heard of the new, "wonder drug" at a professional conference.

_"This next case study aptly demonstrates the dual signature of Memoral. Abuser was approximately 22, male. Addiction to Memoral significant, use of Memoral began approximately 3 years ago. As you all know, Memoral is a Schedule I pharmaceutical. As a dual signature drug, Memoral consists mainly of Dopamine, a chemical naturally produced in the brain that controls behavior and cognition, motor activity, sleep, mood, attention, and learning. It is strictly regulated and approved for use only upon comatose patients with a coma history of 1 year or more that demonstrate a negative response to the Dreysher Test. With those patients, a 70% upswing in recovery has been noted in the last year, including full ambulatory recovery."_

_"However, the effect upon an __already__ fully conscious mind has proven to be substantially destructive, with 90% of unauthorized users expiring within 4 years of first use. Unfortunately, it has still found use as a recreational drug, known as Memo, Fast-Past, Brain Drain, Memory, Blu Goo, Uncle Al, and Brainwash. Addiction is instantaneous upon first use. Its "high" consists of extremely vivid memory recollection, usually spurred on by some sort of triggering device. One addict said that, "it was like I was really there man, all over again!" Most Memoral addicts can be identified easily as they keep their "trigger" nearby; audio players, pictures, and in some cases video._

_Secondary effects upon the conscious mind includes memory loss, ranging from slight to severe, sleep deprivation, uncontrollable rage and learning disorders. Fortunately, it's worst side effects prevents it from widespread use, that is, uncontrollable muscle spasms that grow increasingly worse with continued use. These spasms usually occur within 2-3 minutes of coming down from the high. Traditional analgesics, including Morphine and its derivates, as well as tranquilizers, are ineffectual at reducing or controlling these attacks. It's postulated that this side effect is caused by an "overload" of the conscious mind being forced to relive a memory as reality. Of course, that's purely theoretical as the effects of unauthorized Memoral use make long term study impossible. 80% of abusers addicted to Memoral expire from asphyxiation, or head, back and neck fractures within 4 years. The remaining 20% revert to an Alzheimer's like state, or become comatose entirely. To date, there has been no recorded patient, not even a single one, that has recovered from Memoral induced memory loss or vegetative state."_

Gingerly sitting up on the floor, Simone let her shaking hands fall free over her knees. Picking up a nearby picture of Annabelle that had been swept from her desk, she slowly traced her fingers over the glass.

(That smile. It always spoke all the way into me)

Wiping the falling tears from her face, she looked at the destruction around her.

(I had started to forget the small things, what kind of syrup you liked for pancakes, what earrings you wore to the last Christmas party. How you laughed when it snowed. That thing you always said when we went over a bridge. I needed you so badly, I thought…I thought this would just keep me going until you came back. Then, of course you had to be one of the 30% that didn't respond to Memoral treatment. Fuck, Belle, couldn't you be mainstream JUST ONCE!)

Her anger springing her to her feet, Simone picked up a desk drawer and began to swipe her files into it. Disposing the used syringe into the incinerator chute, she continued to collect the chaos of her office.

(You didn't respond at all, not even a fucking twitch! Assholes were waking up all around you, but you…nothing.)

Giving forth a humorless smile as she turned off the music.

(and now baby, what was supposed to wake you up will put me to sleep in the end. Ironic. I'll be leaving you. And you won't even miss me, because chances are, you'll never remember me at all.)

Struck by her last thought, Simone contemplated the surrounding dark in silence.

"Nurse McConnell, please contact the Nurses Station".

Idiot orderly. She'd come across him just as his fumbling overturned some trays on the mess cart, splattering their contents across the floor. Directing patients around the mess, she had been forced to stay until the situation was cleaned up. Shaking her head, McConnell crossed to a nearby phone and stabbed the Nurses Station number into the phone.

"McConnell here."

"Brisby from Security just called. He said Dr. Bradley was located in her office".

Fuming, McConnell spat back," She's in her office? I thought I told you to call her direct line!"

"Give the poor girl a break Con, my ringer was off" said a smooth voice at her shoulder. Turning quickly, McConnell saw the erstwhile Dr. Bradley standing beside her, impeccable in a fresh longsleeved shirt none the less. Starting down the hallway, she turned her attention back to the red faced nurse following close behind. "I expect it's time to enter the lions den?"

"Where have you been? We've been paging you for the last hour!"

Face hardening, Dr. Bradley stopped outside the Lounge door. "I wasn't aware that what I choose to do with my time is any of your business at all".

Straightening, McConnell took a deep breath. "It does when you are the primary Imprint of one of the most…visible… patients to ever self recover out of a 2 year coma. And if I have to order a biolocation then",

"YOU WHAT?" Flashing into fury, Simone advanced toward McConnell. "You ordered a fucking bio-loc because I was a little late to a meeting?" Seeing the nurse manning the station staring at her, Simone screamed, at her, "Get the fuck out!" Watching her flee down the hall, Simone spun her attention back to McConnell. "I thought it would be quite clear to someone of your apparent experience", she snarled as McConnell went white, "that anyone confronted with that shit in the hallway earlier might need a rest break before stepping into the mess in there" she said, gesturing towards the Lounge. "And now I have to go through a Security inquiry because of your unbelievable incompetence!"

Shocked at the rage in front of her, Kristen McConnell thought furiously.

(Something is so wrong here. She should be ecstatic that Annabelle is awake again. What the hell is going on?)

"Simone…" she tried to continue.

"Fucking forget it. We don't have time for this right now". Cutting Kristen off with a final glare of disgust, Simone pulled open the door to the Lounge and disappeared inside.


	6. Chapter 6

Ignoring McConnell further, Simone strode into the room. Easing herself down into the nearest chair, she stared at the wall, trying desperately to leash her temper.

(Dumbshit, Kristen's not an idiot! Do you want to get caught? But for the grace of a clumsy orderly go I! You're fucking pathetic!_)_

Simone was abruptly brought out of her musings as Hospital Administrator Adams cleared his throat.

"Now that we're all here, we can get started. Let's try to keep this short, as I know it's been a trying day for us all."

"For some more than others" Head of the Ward Gibson sniped, glaring at Simone.

"Please! Lets just get through this, I'm going on 29 hours here" wearily stated the Patient Rights Liaison assigned to Annabelle's case.

(What the hell is her name again? Jay? Jones?)

"As I was saying", a distinctly irritated Adams continued, "Dr. Bradley, I assume you had the opportunity to perform the initial interview with the patient. Please update us on her status."

Mentally screaming inside,

(status. Go ahead Bradley, tell them her status. How she'll never remember what you taste like)

(ENOUGH)

Gathering herself, Simone stood and called up Annabelle's medical record on the wall display.

"I think a brief recap is due for those of us that are coming up to speed on this case", Simone said with a nod towards P.R.L

(Joyce? Jance? Dammit!)

Receiving a pathetically grateful nod in return, Simone continued.

"Patient Tillman was admitted to DGH in the spring of 2014 with severe head trauma, internal injuries and hypothermia as the result of an…an automobile accident. Moderate injuries included multiple rib fractures, and a fractured collarbone. The internal injuries included a collapsed lung and lacerated liver; the femoral artery was also nicked. The complete injury tally was…substantial. Clearing her throat, Simone briefly paused as she noticed the compassionate eyes of McConnell watching her from across the room.

Turning back to the display, she continued in a monotone, "Due to the thoracic internal injuries, treatment for the head trauma was extremely limited for the first 72 hours. CAT scans showed that some blood vessels had ruptured from the accident, but opening the cranial case to relieve the pressure, combined with the emergency surgery the patient had already undergone, would have been a death sentence. Nanosoakers were administered to try to control the pressure, but the 'bots simply couldn't keep up with the amount of leakage. Pressure was reduced but not controlled. By the time surgeons were able to go in the fourth day after the accident, there was substantial secondary damage." Grateful she was still facing the monitor, Simone closed her eyes in pain before continuing. "She never woke up from the surgery, and lapsed into a coma in the following days. Memoral treatment was ineffective."

Numb again, Simone found her way back to her seat.

"As much as I enjoy the history lesson Dr. Bradley, all of that information is in her file." Tossing his personal datapad on the conference table, Gibson smirked. "What I want to know is the result of your interview with her today. Do you know what triggered the turn from a veggie salad to almost human?"

Deep blue eyes looking up at her uncertainly, …"_who are you_?"

Simone's angry retort was forestalled as McConnell quickly held up her hand. "I believe Dr. Bradley was getting there. Please continue."

(Breathe Simone, just a little longer. You can go see her after this bullshit)

Unclenching her hands, Simone continued speaking from her chair. "Simply, patient Tillman is currently suffering from severe retrograde amnesia. She currently believes it is the year 2006, and that she is 17 and about to graduate from high school. Her short term memory seemed undamaged however."

Dead silence reigned in the room.

Baxter, the Imprint Co-coordinator, was the first to speak. "You mean, she doesn't remember anything from the 8 years before the accident? I know they usually don't remember the accident itself, but…"

Cutting her off, Simone replied sharply. "Correct. I didn't have the opportunity to fully update her on current events, but I expect that to be possible as her conscious periods become longer. It's also slightly possible, but not likely, she will regain some of her long term memories over time. However, with the original damage, and with the scarring the subsequent surgeries caused, I wouldn't anticipate a full memory recovery if it hasn't happened upon her waking."

"Well then," Gibson sniffed, "sounds like she's pretty well fucked."

Later, Simone would still have no recollection of crossing the room, grasping Gibson by his neck and throwing him against the reinforced glass wall. She came back to herself as she pounced on him again as he bounced haphazardly to the floor. Seizing him again, she rapidly pinned him against the glass, where she continued to torque her weight on his neck.

Ignoring the shouting around her and McConnell frantically pulling on her arms, Simone snarled into his purpling face, "You dickless piece of shit. Consider this your Come to Jesus warning. You don't talk about her, you don't even fucking think of her! Or I swear to God the next time I'll break your fucking neck!" Dropping him in disdain, she scrubbed her hands on her jeans as she moved back to her chair.

"Dr. Bradley! This behavior is completely unacceptable! And I for one…" Adams began.

A beeping tone interrupted the furor. "Dr. Baxter, this is Donalds from Observation. I'm sorry to bother you, but you wanted to be informed immediately when patient Tillman showed signs of waking?...Going by the monitor readouts we estimate she'll be awake again in approximately 3 minutes. We paged Dr. Bradley, but haven't received a response…"

"Never mind that, we're leaving now for her room" Baxter said moving from her shocked place by the table. "Come on Bradley, we'll talk while we walk".

Still rubbing his bruised throat, Gibson yelled from the floor, "What? She assaults me and just gets to walk out of here! I'm making a formal report and personally filing charges with the Police!"

Snapping his head around, Adams glared at Gibson. "You'll do no such thing! The hospital has had enough bad press concerning this patient, partially due to YOUR actions! This matter will be dealt with internally!" Turning his attention to Simone he said, "Go deal with Tillman, but I'm giving YOU your last warning," and stalking to within a hairsbreadth of Simone he spoke softly, "another outburst like that here will be your last. Tillman will have to take her chances without you here. Are we clear?"

Shaking, Simone managed to grit out, "crystal". Turning on her heel, she left the room, Baxter hurrying behind her.

"Bradley, slow down! Bradley!"

(Take her chances without me here? She'll have that soon enough. Pull it together Bradley, only a little longer almost there)

Hurrying down the corridor, Baxter grabbed Simone's arm just before she reached Annabelle's room. "Look, you can't go in there upset like this! THINK Simone, what does emotional excitement do to newly woken patients?" Seeing Simone's startled look, she continued, "tell me. Think it out."

Leaning wearily against the wall, Simone rubbed her aching head. "Complications for exit comatose patients exposed to emotional distress include shock, confusion, and impediment for memory recovery and general cognition. Severe enough distress can cause "coma retreat", which usually lasts less than a week, but impedes the recovery of the patient."

Pressing on, Baxter asked unexpectedly, "and what are the documented stresses for a new Imprint?"

"Umm…" Simone stumbled.

"Exactly. It's not talked about very often, because it's so hard to verbalize. Feeling like you're living for two people now? Overwhelmed? Shocky?"

Simone blankly stuttered, "…but, how…?"

"I had one Imprint refer to it as "coma pregnancy". Simone, in this, it's really important for you to realize that while you are a fantastic doctor, you don't know anything yet about being an Imprint. Everything is complicated by your previous relationship to Annabelle, and a lot of what Imprints do is going to be doubly hard for you. You aren't her lover, but you need to find a way to be her friend, because just a physical presence isn't enough support for her with the new memory complications."

Seeing Simone's skeptical look, Baxter continued, "we can talk more about this later, but she'll be waking up soon. Here's her contact monitor, make sure she's wearing it and is clear on how to use it." She handed Simone a metallic blue bracelet. "And here's yours, so both she and I can get a hold of you wherever you are."

"I don't need…" Simone began.

"Yes, you do. I can't have Observation watch her constantly, and she needs to be able to get a hold of you wherever you are. And after what happened in the Lounge, this is non-negotiable. I'll remove it when Tillman's released." There was a brief silence as the two women silently engaged in a battle of wills, which ended with Simone's curt nod. "Fine".

Hastily taking the bracelet Simone clicked it around her wrist, and winced as it shrank down to a snug fit over the new bruising. "Anything else?" she asked bitterly.

"Not right now. Good luck." Baxter said as she moved away from the doorway. Simone only then carefully opened the door and slipped inside. Speaking to herself, Baxter finished quietly, "You'll need it".

As Simone's eyes adjusted to the nightlights within the room, she saw that Annabelle had hardly moved in her absence. However, she had already begun to move towards her natural sprawl while sleeping, a detail that brought a brief smile to Simone's face.

(She already looks better, and there's some actual color is in her face! God she's beautiful.)

Suddenly exhausted by the night's events, Simone slumped down into the nearby bedside chair. Unable to restrain her need for touch anymore, she lovingly twined her fingers with Annabelle's. Bringing their linked hands to her forehead in the same motion she'd used countless times in the last 2 years, she lightly rested her brow upon them.

Ok Simone, so here's the question. How in the name of God's green earth are you going to do this? "Be her friend", how the fuck am I supposed to do that and not be her lover too? There was always such a connection with the two of us, from the very moment I saw her outside St. Theresa's…

_It had already been a long morning. Dealing with Catherine Pegrum was irritating at the best of times, but her cruelty during class today made her blood boil. And now, just when she thought she had a bit of time to catch up before the midterm crunch began, her aunt had left her a message to escort in a new student. "Special circumstances" the note had said._

_Sighing, Simone looked down the walkway for the new girl. Briefly distracted by a question from another student, she caught a glimpse of denim and attitude, accentuated by a wisp of cigarette smoke._

_(Great. Just great. She looks like she'll be a joy to settle in. Well, with any luck, maybe she'll be assigned to Sister Claire's dorm.)_

_Seeing Cat and Kristen leave for their next class, Simone finished her conversation and made her way to the girl._

_(Those eyes)  
_

There had just been…something, even at that first short meeting, that had made her want to protect Annabelle. Help her if she could. Laughing softly, she remembered Annabelle's reaction to her suggestion that she take out her nose ring and hide her prayer beads before meeting Mother Immaculata.

(Damn near laughed in my face)

Smiling at the memory, Simone raised her head to meet two very curious blue eyes looking back at her.

(Oh shit)


	7. Chapter 7

Taking in their linked hands, Annabelle blinked the last of the sleep from her eyes and let loose a small grin.

(Well, ok. This is different. The last time I woke up in the hospital I could barely get a nurse to bring water, much less have my own personal bedside doctor. And a cute one at that, look at that body! At least I'll have some entertainment in this place)

Slowly letting her eyes travel over Simone's form

(definitely better than that skaggy nurse I had when I broke my arm)

Annabelle's grin grew into a full fledged smile at Simone's increased discomfiture.

"So, is this part of the Imprint thing, or is this a full service hospital?" she teased.

Now a bright scarlet, Simone dropped her hand and stood.

Clearing her throat, she replied, "Actually, it is part of, 'the Imprint thing', and is one of the things we need to talk about while you're awake. We don't have very much time, but your "up" time will increase the stronger you get. Glancing at the clock hanging on the wall, "but right now, we'll have about 5 minutes."

"Five minutes huh? Time enough for…a lot of things" Annabelle responded looking at Simone with a sexy grin, biting her lower lip. definite possibilities Anna

(Oh. My. God. A 17 year old Annabelle. I barely made it the first time.) Lips twitching into a small smile despite herself, Simone continued.

"First things first, this is for you." Holding out the bracelet, she watched Annabelle examine it.

"Uh, gee Doc, you shouldn't have. We haven't even been on a date. Yet." Annabelle said smiling up through her eyelashes.

(Déjà vu Bradley?)

Rolling her eyes internally, Simone replied evenly, "It's actually a contact monitor so you can reach me if I'm not here when you wake up. Just press your thumb here and say my name. " Watching Annabelle break out laughing at her words, she reviewed them before her face flamed hotly.

(I could have chosen a better way to say that)

Still smiling at the chagrined doctor,

(she's even cuter when she's embarrassed)

Annabelle slid on the metallic blue bracelet. Letting loose a small yip when it abruptly shrank around her wrist she muttered, "Haven't seen that before". "So, Dr. Bradley, or Simone?"

"What?"

"Which do I use? Dr. Bradley," at this Annabelle leaned in closer, "or Simone? " she finished in a whisper, looking into Simone's eyes.

(Time to turn it up)

"Uhh, either will work Annabelle."

"Simone then." Eying the older woman, Annabelle decided to push at little bit more. "I like how it…rolls off my tongue". Licking her lips, she watched for Simone's reaction.

(God help me I do too) thought Simone. Looking further at a smirking Annabelle, Simone was suddenly struck by a revelation that made her wince, and made Annabelle start back in confusion at the expression on her face.

The chair scraped across the floor as Simone abruptly moved away from the bed to the window. As she wrapped her arms around herself, she watched the ebb and flow of people on the patio below.

(Must be shift change.)

(This isn't your Belle, Simone. She's not coming back. This is a lonely, rebellious, 17 year old kid who just got dropped off with a bunch of strangers. Again. This isn't your lover, isn't your wife, isn't the moth…STOP. FUCKING ENOUGH)

With a sigh, she dropped her head against the glass.

(What's going on? What did I say? This can't be the first time someone's hit on her. She's definitely not straight, not unless my mysterious 'injury' broke my gaydar…There's something…) Annabelle thought as she watched the woman in front of her.

Taking a few calming breaths, Simone stood by the window for a minute before she squared her shoulders and turned back to the bed.

(You get her fully recovered Bradley, just like you would any other…patient. Face it and...deal...later. Stop behaving like a petulant child)

"Simone, are you ok?" Annabelle asked gently, trying to get Simone to look at her.

(She looks exhausted, like her soul is tired. What the hell? Ease off Anna)

There was a brief silence before Simone met her gaze. "Sorry Annabelle, it's just been a long…ti…night" Simone said with a wavery smile before sitting down again and studying her hands.

Quietly, Annabelle asked, "so what else do you need to tell me? Before…" Yawning, Annabelle settled back into her bed, "before it's naptime again?"

"Two important points. Okay, maybe one since it looks like our times almost up" Simone said with a small smile as Annabelle gave a huge yawn. "The main one is what you accurately guessed before, that tactile touch is indeed an important part of an Imprint as well as your continued recovery."

"In English Simone, getting sleepy here" Annabelle said through another yawn.

(fine)

"You're going to want to touch me" Simone said bluntly.

(Well that woke her up)

"Excuse me?" sputtered a now alert Annabelle. "What the hell kind of hospital is this?"

Simone sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Relax, Annabelle, basic contact usually suffices. I know it's not because yo…you're attracted to me. It's just part of our Imprint. Because of the way it was formed, physical contact with me is an actual medication for you. The need will increase when you're stressed or upset as well. This is just due to the type of injury you sustained. Which we'll talk about more later" Simone hurriedly finished as she saw Annabelle begin to ask a question. "The need will go away as you continue to recover, but generally it's the strongest at the beginning."

"Right. Okay then…thanks for playing. Time for another doctor" said a distinctly freaked out Annabelle as she crossed her arms defensively.

"Annabelle…"

"I'm not doing that" Annabelle said heatedly before the room abruptly disappeared in front of her.

_"…how heavy the burden of Christ can be"._

_Bitch. Who the fuck does she think I am? One of these giggling Powerpuffs? I've met and beaten worse than you, you pretentious, polyester…If she thinks I'm putting on that Arts and Crafts reject piece she's deluded. I'm Annabelle fucking Tillman!_

_"I'm not wearing that" Annabelle said with a defiant smirk from her chair._

_Eat shit and die. And you, I thought you were cool! Totally stabbing me in the back! You won't even look at me now! Look at me!_

"Annabelle…Annabelle. Annabelle!"

Annabelle dazedly came back to the hospital room to find a very concerned Simone shaking her. Getting no response, Simone cupped Annabelle's face, forcing her to look at her. Seeing nothing but complete confusion looking back at her Simone rapidly glanced at the monitors.

(no alerts, is she going under again? Micro strokes? Nerve feedback? The 'bots were pulled out, maybe…_)_

So as not to startle her, she softly asked, "Annabelle, where did you go?"

Battling to put her swirling thoughts into words, Annabelle stuttered, "Simone, I…I, this office, it was there, but I wasn't…it wasn't me!" And with that Annabelle burst into frustrated tears.

(What?)

Dropping her hands and looking at the sobbing woman in front of her, Simone was at a loss of what to do.

(I know she's not my Annabelle, but…Jesus, I can't just watch her…Get a grip Bradley, she already thinks you're some sort of pervert trying to take advantage of her)

As she tentatively put a hand on Annabelle's back in comfort, the dilemma was abruptly solved as Annabelle grabbed hold of Simone's arm and half pulled her on the bed, holding onto her for dear life and crying into her neck.

(Belle, fuck, Annabelle, whoa…)

"Shhh…Annabelle, it's ok, I'm here, you're ok…shhh". Continuing to mutter soothingly, Simone gathered Annabelle against her and laid them both down on the bed. Feeling her grab her shirt in a death grip and pull even closer, Simone let Annabelle cry herself out against her. As she continued her soothing caresses over Annabelle's back, Simone gradually felt Annabelle relax.

Waiting until the room had been quiet for a few minutes,

(maybe she's ready to tell me where she went, was it just a blackout? Could be her neural net getting up to speed, another problem? But…)

Simone softly said, "Annabelle?"

Getting no response, she turned her head slightly and saw a very asleep Annabelle with her head comfortably nestled on Simone's shoulder. The smile unexpectedly made its way onto Simone's lips.

(some things stay the same Bradley; she always wore herself out when she was upset. Remember?)

The thought tugged at her, and the smile fell away.

(No. I didn't remember. Not until just…it must be speeding up now. Snap. Crackle. Pop.)

Watching the shadows from the trees outside play across the ceiling, Simone sighed and listened to Annabelle sleep beside her. Unconsciously tracing her fingers over Annabelle's hand that was still locked in her shirt, Simone sank into thought.

(What else have you forgotten Simone? What's still to come? Do you even know where you're going anymore? Does it even matter at this point?_)_

Distracted by Annabelle shifting, Simone took the opportunity to study her. Trailing her eyes over the tear swollen eyes, down the lips full of promise, over that stubborn chin, she looked at the face she knew better than her own.

_(e_ven worn out from crying, she's absolutely beautiful. Better go before she wakes up with you in her bed. Somehow I don't think that would help her to trust you)

As Annabelle continued to sleep, Simone suddenly became very aware of her warm breath grazing over her neck. Feeling her belly tighten in response, Simone silently groaned.

(you've got to be kidding)

As she felt her nipples harden against her shirt, Simone gritted her teeth at the unwanted arousal.

(It's been so long…she smells exactly the same, so kissable and warm…Jesus, I've got to get out of here. NOW.)

Slightly panicked, Simone quietly but quickly tried to work her way out from Annabelle's grip without waking her. Finding that Annabelle still had a death grip on her shirt,

(she can have it, just let me get out of here!)

Simone unbuttoned the dress shirt.

(Just put her head on the pillow, leave the shirt and you're home free)

Gently, Simone edged the pillow under Annabelle's head.

(Almost there)

Just as she was about to slip out of the shirt, Annabelle muttered sleepily and threw a bare leg over Simone's jean covered thighs, making the hospital gown rise dangerously. Catching a glimpse of perfect skin, Simone froze and closed her eyes tightly.

(she's so soft there, warm. lickable even_)_

Inadvertently taking advantage of Simone's distraction, Annabelle continued to cuddle closer. Sighing, she rested her head back on Simone's shoulder, and slid a slender arm around Simone's newly naked torso before finally growing quiet again.

(It's going to be a long night.)


	8. Chapter 8

2016

The late morning light was just beginning to fall through the windows onto the intertwined occupants of the lone bed. Gleaming off a bare shoulder and blond curls haphazardly falling onto the pillow, it slowly continued on its journey across the starched cotton sheets. Illuminating the smaller figure spooned behind the first, it danced over sleek mahogany locks and a strong arm, still wrapped firmly in place.

Blinking drowsily against the sun brightening in her face, Simone gradually surfaced to the waking world.

(Fell asleep in one of the open rooms again Bradley? Haven't done that in awhile. God, I actually feel…good. How long has it been since I've slept that well? Drug free even? Hah, years most likely_)_

As she continued to wake, her brows knit in confusion as she noticed the wide abrasions wrapped around her wrists.

(I did Memo? What the hell)

Checking herself for further injuries, her face began to burn as she realized she was half naked.

And apparently, also lost my shirt along the way. No hangover, doesn't look like I even left work. So I used my emergency 'supplies'? What the fuck? What DID I do last night? Ok, think Bradley… I was reviewing my surgical notes for McNeil on Tuesday, had that nasty teleconference with Gibson and Admin., how a prick like that got this far I'll never know, went to go visit Belle…

_"What the hell kind of hospital is this?"_

Simone jerked fully awake as the previous nights memories suddenly flooded over her.

(Belle)

Now very aware of the warm body snuggled against her, Simone rolled within the embrace holding her until she was face to face with Annabelle. As her eyes traced the features mere inches from her own, the arm around her back tightened at her movement, bringing her closer. Barely daring to breathe, Simone froze until she saw Annabelle relax further into sleep. As warm breath sighed against her lips Simone leaned closer still, and began to close her eyes

(God, I could just, she's so close you know you want to sleepy warm just for a minute oh Annabelle, you could be my Belle…)

With a shaking hand, Simone lightly brought a dark lock of hair to her face, brushing it across her lips and smearing the tears across her cheeks.

(No)

A shivering Simone pulled away, retreating quickly as far as the embrace would allow. Covering her face with battered hands, she tried to keep her weeping quiet so as not to wake Annabelle.

(Completely fucking disgusting Bradley, why don't you just jump on her, tell her its part of her "treatment"? Show her what Dr. /Patient privilege is all about, the-rapist for a thousand Alex! Pitiful)

Finally opening her eyes again, Simone caught a glimpse of the time.

_(_I've been sleeping here for 6 hours?...She could wake up any minute!)

With a wince, she unwrapped herself from the embrace and slid out of bed. Scanning the sheets for the shirt, she froze again as Annabelle stretched out across the bed before falling deeper into sleep with a sweet smile. Trying her best to ignore the vision before her, Simone finally spotted a flash of white, tucked neatly under Annabelle's slumbering form.

(Fuck it, I'll get it later. This won't be the first time a resident has seen a half-naked doctor running though the halls)

Glancing at Annabelle's slumbering form one last time, Simone fled from the room.

2012

_I love the sun. Absolutely, completely, LOVE it. Nothing is as perfect. Ok, well almost nothing_

_Annabelle shaded her eyes, grinning while she watched from her poolside chair as the white bikini clad figure stroked her way through the water. As she pulled her tanned, dripping form from the pool and padded to the diving board, the blond woman caught her admiring stare and wolf whistle. Blushing a sweet smile, she blew Annabelle a kiss, before_

_(Wow. Smokin' hot. Cat, eat your evil little heart out)_

_executing a perfect dive, barely causing a splash._

_(A perfect day for this, not a cloud in the sky. I can't believe she's mine, all mine. After so much, all the bullshit we've been though, it's just us, finally! My…my…where is she? She should have come up by now)_

_Hopping uncomfortably on the hot deck, a worried Annabelle dropped her sunglasses on the deck chair before mincing over to the edge of the pool. As she bent to shade her eyes from the reflected glare, she gave a sudden shriek as a body flew out of the water, grabbed her by the shoulders, and dragged her into the pool._

_(!)_

_Startled breathless by the cold water, she felt herself supported as arms wrapped themselves around her, kicking them both to the surface._

_"You are totally dead!" Annabelle sputtered as she blinked the chlorinated water from her eyes. Trying to turn around, she felt the arms tighten around her, holding her in place as they gently floated._

_"Am I now?" came the amused response from behind her. "You looked a bit…overheated. Just trying to help is all, wouldn't want you to get sunstroke Belle." With that, nibbling lips began to trace their way down her neck while underwater hands pulled her hips hard against the body behind her._

_"You're so evil baby" Annabelle moaned as she felt a hand slip into her bikini top and slowly tweak a nipple. She arched forward as it was rolled between two strong fingers, relishing the contact. Needing more, she pressed her hips back harder, desperately conveying her rising need. Smiling as she was rewarded with a stroking hand that rapidly made its way over her fluttering belly and into her bikini bottoms, she groaned as the ministrations abruptly stopped._

_"Well then, I certainly wouldn't want you to do anything you don't want to do. I guess I'll go start dinner…"_

_"Don't you dare" she whispered fiercely, immediately reaching both hands behind her and grabbing hold of a muscular ass, preventing her partner from shifting away. As Annabelle dropped her head on the shoulder behind her, she closed her eyes from the glare of the sun._

_"Well then" a seductive voice murmured, "tell me what you want"._

_"Do you want me here", she asked, tormenting Annabelle's nipples further,_

_"Or here," she said, caressing a throbbing center, making Annabelle gasp,_

_"Or perhaps, here" she whispered as fingers traced over Annabelle's ass, eliciting a groan._

_"Tell me"._

_Annabelle turned her head and grazed her teeth over soft skin before she whispered into the still afternoon air, "I don't want you to fuck me." Feeling the body behind her stiffen and start to move away, she continued, "I want you to love me, as long and hard as you can. Please. I need you in me, so, so deep and strong that I'll still feel your touch in my dreams. Feel you curl in me, take all of me and keep me to you. Take me baby, every piece of me, please, do it now, I need you…" Trailing into silence, all she heard was the soft muttering of the water against tile._

_(Did I push too fast? I thought…)_

_"I love you"_

_With those words, Annabelle was suddenly filled as 3 fingers plunged deep into her, filling her to the brim. Breathless at the immediate pleasure,_

_(OH YES)_

_she arched herself into the body behind her, her hands desperately seeking purchase on the slick skin. Annabelle was aware of movement right before her wrists were caught in a strong hand and held behind her back. The skimpy black bikini was ripped off her body and left to float away. Confident fingers continued to stroke her to a fever pitch, and Annabelle's moans echoed over the water. Frantic lips turned to her lover and were immediately captured in a scorching kiss. Annabelle swallowed a groan as her lips were abandoned only to feel a trail of nipping kisses fall across her shoulders._

_"Grab hold Belle" a husky voice whispered in her ear as her wrists were released. Opening her eyes, she dazedly grabbed the pool ledge with her hands before surprising her lover, moving her ass in a teasing roll, sliding hard against the front of the body pressed against her._

_She had time to hear a growl behind her before an arm wrapped itself around her hip and over her belly, holding her close before hungry fingers slammed into her, again and again._

_(yes yes yes, close, please, love you, need you)_

_As Annabelle felt herself begin to tighten, a hand wound itself forcefully in her long hair, pulling her away from the pool edge and bowing her neck back. Taking complete control, her lover continued to drive into her in an inexorable rhythm, her unsupported weight now letting her reach even deeper than before._

_(coming, baby, please, please, now!)_

_Just as she was about to be washed away, her lover bit hard into her shoulder while thrusting as deeply as she was able. The strong wave turned into a tsunami at the combined sensations, and Annabelle lost all control to come screaming into the afternoon sun._

_Drifting back sometime later, she was very faintly aware of her lover holding her cupped securely in her arms. Raising a lazy hand, Annabelle looked up from her lover's shoulder at the face she adored more than any other in this world. With a shaking finger, she traced the strong nose and jaw and whispered softly, "I love you too baby". _

2016

Annabelle's eyes flew open into wakefulness, breath coming fast.

(Holy shit! Who, where?...)

Struggling to keep hold of the dream, Annabelle was aggravated as it quickly fragmented into threads of memory.

(Pool, hot tub, no, hot chick, no, not chick, Jesus she was definitely woman, blond, I think? Fuck! I can't even remember what she looked like, that voice though, I swear I've heard it before, some song maybe?)

As the last figments of the dream slipped away Annabelle heaved the pillow across the room and let out a sigh of complete frustration. Pulling strands of hair away from her sweaty face, she pulled it up into a loose knot before flopping back down onto the bed.

(Motherfucker, I hate that the best dreams always fade totally away. Dammit all. Nothing's that good, not that I've found. Yet.)

Now fully awake and grinning to herself, Annabelle studied the room around her.

(Nice carpet, table, chair, chair, another chair and the bed. Easy clean linoleum. Pastel strawberry is better than puke green I guess. Whatever. The sooner I'm up, the sooner I can get out of here)

Staring at the ceiling, Annabelle began to think.

(I don't remember an accident. The Harridan dropped me off; I was waiting for my newest 'escort'…so how did I get here? Where is here anyway? Simone said I was hurt, but I feel fine. A little stiff, but even that's getting better_)_

Frowning at that thought and stifling a yawn, Annabelle sat up and began to examine her body.

(Scar from Bobby Andrews pushing me off my bike in the 3rd grade, check. Scar from me climbing a fence to punch out the little bastard, check. Running from the cops in while wearing sandals, oy that was a bad scene, check_)_

Annabelle found no evidence of new injuries, and began to run a hand through her hair in frustration before stopping abruptly. Pressing lightly above her right ear, she traced the faint scar she felt raised there around the back of her head to above her other ear.

(I have a fucking Frankenstein scar all around my head? What, what…)

Now shaking badly, Annabelle was deaf to the sudden strident beeping of the monitors next to the bed. As her vision began to blur,

_(_where is she)

she pushed at the bracelet on her wrist, fingers slipping off the tri-colored tab, "Simone, Simone, are you there? Simone…"


	9. Chapter 9

2016

Snatching a pair of scrubs from a nearby linen closet, Simone hurried down the hall. As she heard the lock catch, she let out a sigh of pure relief to the shadows layering her dim office. Worn jeans dropped to the floor as she changed into the much more comfortable dark blue surgical scrubs. Speaking into the air,

"Activate Belle Fortuna Mix, Volume 10"

she sank into the couch, relaxing slightly as 'Mi Mancherai' eased throughout the room. Tired of fighting, she finally let the pain overcome her.

(What are you doing Bradley?)

Pinching the bridge of her nose in a futile effort to stave off the impending headache, she let her head fall back on the arm of the couch. Recriminations raced through her head as she idly stared at the ceiling.

Finally letting the still, quiet voice speak into her raging thoughts, Simone closed her eyes, her body almost vibrating in agony.

(Face it Bradley, she's simply not coming back. No sign of memory recovery in the initial 12 hours following consciousness. That drops her odds of any memory recovery to the absolutely miniscule. You hoped, you gambled, and you fucking lost. Couldn't save Amanda, couldn't save Belle, couldn't save... You're useless. It's over.)

_Annabelle's battered, bleeding face, the dark water lapping closer, "Simone! Get…"_

Her bare feet padding over the thick rugs thrown haphazardly over the office floor, Simone angrily scrubbed the tears from her face and paced out her thoughts.

(Narrows it down a bit doesn't it Bradley? Choice time. Stay or go. Stay, or go. Uncle Al is catching up faster than you thought, can't be more than a year at the very most. Less if you do any more, you're close to being washed out already)

Pace, pace, pace

(You were only staying around for her, and now, there just isn't a reason is there? Lightning doesn't strike in the same place twice)

Pace, pace, pace, turn

(but you can't leave quite yet can you? Imprint breaks don't recover, and tactiles go hard. She doesn't deserve to be condemned to the dark)

Pace, pace, pace

(you can't leave, not yet)

Pace, pace, pace, turn

(Physically, her response to the maintenance 'bots has been ideal, with little loss of muscle mass and coordination. That means only Level 1 treatment, to improve her coordination further as well as work on stamina; 4 months tops.)

Stopped in the middle of the room, Simone glanced at the shadowed corner behind her desk, where a glint of another picture frame peeked out beside the smiling picture of Annabelle.

(Neurologically, my hunch is that only the long term memory has been affected. That was where the damage was concentrated…but with no other memory complications, its effect upon her recovery is reduced. She can still read and understand language, no sign of learning disabilities at this point. Most of those show themselves immediately. As for the confusion last night, Baxter warned me about emotional excitement dammit, I'm lucky it didn't affect her more than it did)

Hugging herself unconsciously, Simone rocked back and forth on her feet.

(So, barring any unexpected complications, odds are that once she gets over the shock of 10 years "lost", she'll be able to…continue…her life, and will be out of here by May. A normal life)

The smooth material of the scrubs hissed against the wall as Simone slid down to the floor, resting her arms on her knees and staring blankly at the door.

(3-4 months. Can you give her that Bradley? For the sake of your Belle, can you give this incarnation a new life? Can you be her Doctor, her Imprint, her friend, everything but her lover, lead her to a life in which you are transitory, watch her walk out the door in the end?)

Shaking her head, Simone pressing fingertips to her throbbing temples.

(I can't. I can't do this.)

_"We aren't doing anything wrong"._

_Looking into Annabelle's eyes, Simone felt her heart break. She desperately pressed her hands to the desk to keep them from brushing, touching, pulling that beautiful face to her aching lips. So close, but so infinitely far away._

_I can't love you, I can't have you, I can't stop wanting to try, I can't forget you, even when I want to. I'll hurt you, I know how this ends_

_"I __can't__ do this" Simone forced out. Expecting an angry retort, a fight, something, she instead saw the most unexpected of emotions in Annabelle's eyes._

_Compassion. Indescribable love. Love enough to turn and walk away, rather than cause her pain._

(Can I be as strong?...It won't be for long…I'll have to be. Get up Bradley, quit your fucking whining and get up)

Coming to a decision, Simone slowly stood up and crossed over to her desk. Her gaze fell again upon the shadowed picture frame. With infinite care, she eased it face down, glass clicking softly as it met the wood.

(4 months. There's only one way I can do it, but, I can give you that Annabelle. If for no other reason that once…once…a long time ago…you made my fairy tale come true)

Doing a quick check to make sure the door was locked; Simone dialed a number she knew, drunk, stoned or other. As she waited for him to pick up, she grimaced wryly

(and I probly have called him in each of those states, good thing he speaks Slur)

her musings interrupted as he picked up, "Hello?"

"Michael?"

"Simone?"

"Hi, it's me. I know it's early, but I was wondering if you could drop by the hospital before work?"

"Sure Simone, it's been too long! I'll even spring for coffee, you still drinking Columbian Black?"

"Impeccable memory as always Michael. See you in about an hour?"

"See you then".

Hanging up and pulling on her favorite pair of sneakers against the morning chill, Simone glanced at the bracelet on her wrist.

(pale blue. At least another couple of hours before she wakes up)

Her eyes winced as she went over the chaos in her office.

(Might as well get started on it. Still have the case prep to finish on McNeill, new entries for Annabelle, Michael will be here by then…)


	10. Chapter 10

2016

(this sucks)

Kristin McConnell sat on the outside bench, breath puffing in the cold and huddled around her morning coffee. Watching the tired late night staff go home for the day, she squinted her eyes in annoyance at an obscenely chipper orderly coming in for his shift.

(Bastard)

Eyes wide at her glare, he hurried inside, making her smile in amusement.

(Torturing the orderlies, really, is there a better pastime? I hate morning people. Furthermore, I have no idea how Simone does this. I'm not even 30 and I feel like a corpse anymore if I don't get my 8 hours of sleep. Must be a secret residency program, they remove the need for sleep, fashion sense and personal grooming)

Snickering at the thought of Dr. Obega, who favored different layers of plaid on a daily basis, Kristen took another sip of her latte and came back to the thought that had kept her up most of the night with a smile on her face, giving her husband teasing ammo for years to come.

(I can't believe she woke up. My best friend is back! Ok, well, kinda back I guess, in form if not quite function yet. I can't wait to see her.)

Thoughts drifting in the cold winter sun, Kristen continued to bask for a while longer.

(But at least Obega knows what he's doing; some of these new ones don't have a brain in their skull)

_2011_

_It had been a long morning already. A pileup on I-25 due to the sudden snowstorm had hammered them with injuries. Due to the thick layer of ice on the roads the ambulances were delayed, so by the time some of the victims had reached DGH they had worsened considerably._

_Everyone was overloaded; ER doctors were yelling orders, moving quickly from one patient to the next as nurses assisted them. As she finished inserting the latest IV into the groaning patient on the gurney, Kristen noticed an unfamiliar, slightly balding doctor preparing to add an injection_

_(what the hell)_

_to the IV drip of an unconscious patient._

_Almost running across the room as she saw him draw the shot, Kristen cursed as she slipped on the blood sprayed across the floor._

_(Lazy fucking orderlies! Who is this guy, I've never even seen him before! Ok, handle the ego first…)_

_Brushing past the half-open privacy drapes, she said "Excuse me Doctor, but that patient has already been treated. The patient in Room 3 could use…" she said with a saccharine smile, gesturing toward Room 3. Quickly checking the monitors, she noticed no new alerts to indicate the reason for the injection._

_"I'm not interested in your opinion Nurse" the man said shortly as he looked at her with an impatient glare. "And if this is what you call treatment, then I assure, you, your tenure here will be short." With a sniff, he turned his back to her._

_(What,…my tenure…who the…sonofabitch! The patient is stable, who the fuck is this prick?)_

_Temporarily amazed speechless, she said with a hint of steel in her voice as he brought the injector up again, "this patient has been coded next for a Neuro consult. Has there been a status change? Taking the opportunity to look at the medication bottle, she grew from confused to alarmed._

_(Parcipan? Is he crazy?)_

_"Doctor, you can't give that to him, it wi…"_

_"Unlike some, I have a medical education! I'll do exactly as I think best, now get out of my way!" Shoving rudely past her, he grabbed the port of the IV line._

_He was startled as Kristen jumped forward, grabbing the IV line under the port to prevent the medication from entering the patient._

_"You can't give that to him!"_

_"That's it! Security!"_

_Watching a confused Security team approach, Kristen clenched the line tighter in her fist._

_With a smug smile the Doctor gestured peremptorily towards Kristen. "Remove her from the area, rip out the line if you have to". Seeing their hesitation, he barked, "Now!"._

_As the Security team shifted towards her, Kristen gripped her hand around the bedside bars._

_(Shit, no one will hear me over the noise in here)_

_The drapes were abruptly pulled fully open, revealing a woman unzipping her heavy winter parka, still spotted with snow. "That won't be necessary" she said, speaking to the Security team who immediately relaxed at her appearance. Stuffing her cap into a jacket pocket, she took in Kristen's death grip on the IV line and bedrail. Quirking an eyebrow in question, she ignored the gaping doctor and pulled the medpad from the foot of the bed, scanning it over the brim of her glasses. "Hard morning?" she asked McConnell as she reviewed the medpad._

_(Thank God)_

_Before Kristin could respond, the doctor moved toward the newcomer, apoplectic at being ignored. "This is a restricted area! Leave before I…" his voice trailed off as ice blue eyes bored into his own, stunning him back to silence._

_"Oh, I don't think I'm going anywhere Doctor…" she said softly, cocking her head to the side._

_"Gibson", he said hesitantly._

_"Dr. Gibson." Returning her attention to the medpad she continued, "You, on the other hand, seem to be on a fast track to nowhere." Directing her attention to Kristen she directed, "Take out the IV immediately, and put in a clean line…"_

_"What?" he managed to get out as she continued on as if he hadn't even spoken._

_"…and schedule a 10% image cycle of the anterior injury as soon as a slot opens up." Only now turning her full attention to him, she leaned back against the bed and asked,"Now then, Dr…, what was it again?"_

_"Gibson!" He gritted out._

_"Oh yes, Dr. Gibson. Where did you go to school?"_

_"University of Delaware" he replied stiffly._

_"Medical school?"_

_"Of course!"_

_"I assume you graduated?" she asked, still watching him._

_"Obviously" he stated with a sneer._

_"Completed residency?"_

_"Yes!"_

_"I see. I ask, Dr. Gibson, because I was under the impression that being able to read was a requirement for graduation from the University of Delaware, as well as completing most residency programs. Am I incorrect? Have they lowered their standards?"_

_Confused now, he stuttered," No, no of course you have to be able to read."_

_"Ah. So then it must be a new treatment that I'm unfamiliar with. Unlikely, but possible I suppose."_

_"There's nothing new about treating head trauma with Parcipan!" he shot back defensively; completely disgruntled at the insolent tone this, this…woman had taken with him. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have patients who need me..."_

_"Shut the fuck up" she said flatly, still casually leaning against the bed. "Before I ask Larry and Ned here to take you out back and beat some sense into you. Even if it doesn't work, it'll amuse the hell out us, which we sorely need after having you nearly kill one of our patients by stupidity alone."_

_"Excuse me? Parcipan…"_

_Invading his space so quickly he involuntarily backed up a step, "You fucking moron, Parcipan is a brachial nerve inhibitor. Which unfortunately leads to cardiac arrest when combined with Treylthadone, a general stabilizer commonly administered to trauma victims and which this patient is pumped full of. PARZAPIN, "she stressed, "is administered for head trauma only in the first 20 minutes of the injury, and indeed, was already administered 52 minutes ago. As noted here on the medpad by Nurse McConnell, who was actually __doing__ her job" she said, pointing to the marked prescription box. "Administering Parzapin after the 20 minute cutoff increases the chance of cerebral microstrokes. The only, "help" you would have provided this patient would have been a tossup between two painful deaths"._

_With a scathing glance, she continued, "So, __Mr.__ Gibson, your incompetence is truly staggering. Apparently, even if you can read, you lack the skill of a third year med student to provide even a modicum of competent treatment. Now, get out of my ER before I have you thrown out."_

_"__Your__ ER? Who the hell do you think you are? You can't do that!"_

_"Dr. Simone Bradley, and, actually", she said, her attention focused again on the medpad as she made a notation, "I can. Larry, Ned please escort Mr. Gibson to the outer waiting room. Inform Adams of the situation." Watching the Security team urge a sputtering Gibson down the hallway, she turned to Kristen._

_"Breakfast?"_

2016

Still giggling at the memory,

(one of the coolest things I've ever seen. Once that got around, the nurses were fighting to work with her, you always knew if shit went down she'd back you up instead of throwing you under the bus)

Snickering again,

(…gave her the nickname too…Saint Simone. God Annabelle gave her such hell about that)

Taking in the snow covered landscape,

(and that's another thing…what is up with Simone? Wonder if she'll be better today, god I hope so, last night was way, way too intense, even for her. I can't get it out of my head that something's going on, but damn if I know what it is. Freaking irritating)

Kristen took a final swallow of the coffee before getting to her feet. Grasping her satchel, she began to start toward the entrance before stopping in shock

(what is HE doing here! What?...)

as she watched the man saunter through the entrance, a coffee carrier balanced in one hand. His expectant smile making her feel slightly queasy, Kristen hurried after him.

(She promised!)


	11. Chapter 11

2016

Rubbing the back of her neck to try and get the kinks out, Simone finished updating the last patient file in front of her. Tossing her glasses on the desk, she stretched out in the chair, hearing several vertebrae pop back into alignment.

(And it's not even 8 yet)

A sigh escaped her as she eyed the large pile of paper still to be dealt with. There was the budget for Neuro to be finalized, a massive packet Baxter had sent over in the night titled, "Your Imprintee and You", physician consultation requests and other various miscellanea. All of which still covered half of her desk. Sighing again, she took a pile of patient files with her and filed them away in the massive cabinets covering the far wall.

(Christ. And I thought I would escape paperwork when I left St. Theresa's. Hah._)_

As a separate brightly colored pile caught her eye she scowled instinctively.

(And as always, the fucking reporters. I need to talk to Adams about that, with Annabelle awake it's only a matter of time before they descend again. Bastards.)

Irritated, Simone slammed the file drawer before crossing back to the desk. She was just about to file the last of the files as a knock came at the door.

"Come in" she called out, juggling some slipping files into the cabinet.

"Simone?" Michael's head poked around the door.

"Hi, come in, just let me get these…there." Closing the drawer, Simone crossed over to Michael and was enveloped in a big hug. "How are you?" she asked, extricating herself as he held on a bit too long.

(Some things never change)

With wry amusement he settled into the chair in front of her desk. "It's been too long Simone, I almost gave up on hearing from you again".

"Well, you know, my work always keeps me busy Michael", she replied, shrugging deeper into her office chair.

"Always did, didn't it Simone?" he replied with a trace of bitterness.

"Michael…"

"Nevermind" he said, waving that conversation away. "What do you need Simone, I assume you didn't call me just to catch up?"

(Well damn. Shouldn't have thought this would be easy)

"Annabelle woke up last night" she said, watching his face, not surprised when it went carefully blank.

…"Congratulations" he said quietly, before falling silent again.

Taking a deep breath, Simone continued. "She has amnesia Michael." Seeing his eyes whip up and stare at her intently, "I'm just another stranger to her".

"Will she recover? I mean, is this temporary?" he asked, studying her.

"She's projected to make a full physical recovery, but as for her memory, no. That's not likely to change". Simone finished softly.

"Oh" he said. "Um, I'm sorry Simone, I know you…"

Lurching to her feet, Simone walked across the room, staring ahead, "There's more, why I asked you to drop by. I'm her Imprint."

Eyebrows high in surprise, he leaned back in his chair. "No shit? Wow, talk about…wow." Shaking his head, "okay, what does that have to do with me?"

"I have to last through her recovery,… I estimated it around 4 months. Soon, I'll have to be around her for…for hours at a time. If, if I'm not, she'll never fully recover." Turning on her heel, she walked back over to him. "Michael, I'm at the threshold of Memo snap already…there's only one way I can think of to do it." Eyes raised defiantly, she crossed her arms and waited for him to work it out.

"I still don't…oh, oh hell no Simone! I am not doing that! FOR FOUR MONTHS? You wouldn't…, no fucking way!" starting out of his chair, he headed towards the door.

"Michael please!"

"Fuck no Simone! One time would drive you insane!" turning, he crossing behind the desk and grabbed her by the arms, "It will absolutely kill you!"

"I'm dead anyway!" Simone screamed into his face. As he released her in shock, she repeated, "I'm dead anyway Michael. I'll hit the wall with the backwash soon, but at least this way, Annabelle will make it. I have to be here until she walks out. And I can't, I can't be around her like I am now. After 3 minutes of her, I almost lost it. I can't… I don't know of any other way."

The ticking of the clock on the wall was the only noise in the office for the next few minutes.

"You're talking the Big 4 right, one a month?" he finally said. At her nod, he continued, "Memo and…"

"Sacriset" she replied.

"Sacriset. Jesus Christ" Collapsing into the chair, Michael hid his face in his hands.

"Can you get it Michael?" Simone asked quietly.

"Yeah, yeah I can get it. Won't be easy, but I can get it."

(Almost there)

"Michael, there's more. I only have triggers for two. I'll need you to take me in for the others."

"Jesus Simone. Which two will you need?

"First and the last".

"Shit, you know the first one is the hardest anyway…"

"I know. Will you help me?"

Leather creaked as he leaned forward in his chair, his eyes searching hers, "Simone…I have to ask. Is she worth it? Really worth it? You said it yourself; this isn't your…Belle anymore. What do you owe this stranger? Because This. Will. Kill. You. Do you understand that, I mean, really, do you? What if it takes longer than 4 months? What if…There's…you could have a life, a real life, without her…we...you could still…"

Her fingertips light on his lips, she cut him off gently. "No Michael, I can't. And further, I don't want to." So softly he had to lean in further to hear her, she whispered, "I simply can't live without her, I'm…I'm broken Michael. There's no substance to me…I'm a ghost in love with a ghost. I could…exist…while I thought one day she might wake up, but now…I can't. If I hadn't…" losing her voice, she closed her eyes in pain.

"Simone, it wasn't your fault" he said quietly.

_"Simone! Simone, reach!"_

"Will you help me?" she asked again, sitting on her heels in front of his chair. As he took her hands in his own, she waited for his answer.

(Please Michael)

Searching her face, Michael was quiet. Finally, he bowed his head in defeat. "It'll take me a couple of days to get the Sacriset, Friday at the earliest. I'll call you when I have it. We'll do coffee again", he said with a wince. Squaring his shoulders as he stood, "What do you need from me for the first trigger?"

As she told him, horror washed over his face. "There isn't another one that will work? Simone…"

Tired to her soul, Simone retreated to her chair. "You know it has to be a traumatic one Michael."

"I know, but, that one? Are you sure?"

"I'm sure, can…"

The bracelet on Simone's wrist suddenly flashed a deep red color, followed by Annabelle's panicked voice, "Simone, Simone, are you there? Simone…"

On her feet immediately and moving toward the door, Simone looked at Michael. "I have to go, Friday night then?"

"Unless you hear otherwise" he said unhappily, toying with the coffee cup.

"Michael…thank you" she said, giving him a fleeting kiss on the cheek.

"Go" he softly urged. Watching her fly out the door, get took a sip of his now cold coffee. "See you Friday" he whispered to the empty room.


	12. Chapter 12

2016

Shoving a visitor out of the way and dodging a startled patient, Simone flew down the hallway. Almost running into a wall as she turned a corner, she tried again to contact Annabelle.

(Nothing dammit…hurry Bradley)

Simone skidded to a stop in front of Annabelle's door, almost plowing into an anxious Baxter.

"We'll talk after you come out" was all she said, hastening Simone's entry into the room.

Eyes briefly dazzled by the sundrenched room, a panting Simone closed the door behind her and ran over to where Annabelle was sitting on the edge of the bed, grasping the mattress tightly with both hands. Taking a quick glance at the monitors

(Jesus Christ, her pulse, respiration…shit!)

She sat down in the chair facing the bed, pulling it forward until she was directly in front of Annabelle's dangling legs. Struggling to keep her voice calm, she tried to get Annabelle's attention. "Annabelle, Annabelle! I'm here, you have to calm down". Simone herself was beginning to panic as she saw the vital signs continue to skyrocket.

"I…can't…breathe" Annabelle managed to gasp out, face turning paler by the second.

"Just take deep breaths Annabelle, slow down" Simone urged as the signs continued to rise.

(Shit, she's going to pop)

Almost chalk white, Annabelle rasped, "Can't…Si…can't…"

(You're losing her Bradley!)

In a complete panic now, Simone did the only thing she could think of. Grabbing Annabelle's hand, she thrust it inside her loose scrub top, placing it high on her chest above the heart. Holding it in place, "Feel me breathe in and out, do you feel that?"

(goddammit baby please!)

Cupping Annabelle's jaw, she forced her to look into her eyes. "Do you feel that!" she demanded insistently. At Annabelle's faint nod, she continued her deep, calming breaths, eyes still locked onto Annabelle's, "Just breathe with me, keep breathing Annabelle, that's it, deep and slow". The minutes ticked by as the alerts gradually clicked off, the only noise the two women gradually breathing in tandem, eyes still locked on one another.

(Another brief glance The readouts look fine, no precipitating event, no neural drops, what the hell triggered this?)

(she's here! She's here, it's ok, Anna just listen, listen! I can't breathe Simone, I can't! Help, I ca…)

Vision now almost completely black, Annabelle's head fell forward.

_2010_

_(Damn, I can barely breathe, that'll teach me to try running though the sand. But, she's here! She has to listen to me, I won't let her not! You aren't getting away from me this time Simone Bradley!)_

_Catching her breath, she made her way into the complex, finally spotting the Captain. "Is she through here Captain?" Annabelle asked, striding down the hallway, feeling the sand crunch between her boots and the floor. Not waiting for his answer, she quickly stepped into the office, confused when it revealed itself to be empty._

_Turning quickly, she only now noticed the slightly battered condition of Captain Jact and his accompanying officer. Scrapes decorated the faces of both men, but the aide held himself painfully, and the Captain had an excellent black eye coming in. Dread coiling in her belly, "What happened, where is she?"_

_"Miss Tillman", the Captain responded stiffly, "she took…exception…to being detained. We had to…"_

_"Where…is…she" Annabelle managed to grit out, staring at the officer._

_"This way Miss Tillman" he said, gesturing her out of the office and through an unmarked door. "If I may continue? When she tried to leave the building, we were forced to bodily restrain her. You didn't tell us she was a fighter, she landed two of my men in Medical before we got the upper hand" he said reproachfully. "We were forced to confine her to Cell 4…"_

_(oh fuck. Oh fucking sweet Jesus, she'll…)_

_Missing the rest of the Captain's explanation, Annabelle sprinted down the hallway, glancing into each cell. She finally found Cell 4 at the very end. Eyes wide at the damage to the cell contents, she stared through the reinforced glass, not able to see the woman contained within._

_(Holy shit. No, Simone, no!)_

_"Indeed, quite the little wildcat" the Captain commented, adjusting his cuffs as he caught up. A humorless smirk came out as he glanced into the cell. "I take it she's been incarcerated before? She certainly knows how to make an extraction difficult"._

_"What?" Annabelle said distractedly, still trying to find Simone in the debris. A piece of sheet fluttered over the sink, but there was no other movement._

_"A cell extraction. We will have to go in and get her won't we then? She's already entrenching, see how the bed frame has been tipped for a more difficult entry…she's flooded the cell as well; harder for us to get any momentum going. Damn. I'd bet my last Euro she knows all the tricks. Certainly appears she's gone completely round the bend. I'll assemble my team" he finished, gesturing to his aide. An insistent hand on his arm turned him back around._

_"Open the door" Annabelle said softly, still staring inside._

_"Certainly not!" the Captain snorted, appalled at the idea. "If you seriously think I'm going to cause an international incident by endangering you with a madwoman…"_

_"She won't hurt me" Annabelle said, certain of her words._

_"Miss Tillman, I appreciate that you __feel__ that you know the woman you were brought in with. But this person" he said with a gesture to the cell, "I wouldn't assign less than a full security detail"._

_"And Captain, I appreciate __your__ position. Now open the door, before I am forced to call Colonel Isuri. Your choice." Pinning him with her eyes, she watched him struggle and finally bend._

_"As you wish. Please remember this was over my strong objection", the Captain said curtly, unlocking the door._

_Not bothering to answer, Annabelle felt water wash around her boots as she stepped into the cell. A destroyed light hug from the ceiling, the intermittent flickering making Annabelle's eyes water. Edging around the warped bed frame, she stepped over a pile of shredded mattresses. Pulling down a dangling sheet, she saw nothing but more ruin behind it._

_(Okay, this cell isn't that big. Where is…)_

_A warning shout reached her right as the mattresses erupted behind her. A cold, watery arm choked around her neck, pressing her back into the dripping figure. She held onto the arm for dear life as they both whirled, facing the inrushing officers. Annabelle went absolutely still as the cold edge of metal pricked her neck._

_"Release her Bradley, there's no where for you to go!" the Captain shouted._

_"Tell them to get back chickie." a dangerously soft voice whispered in her ear. The shank pricked further at Annabelle's hesitation, releasing a trickle of blood._

_"Get back Captain, get back!" Annabelle tried to keep the trembling from her voice. She was relieved as the Captain and his men obeyed, retreating to just outside the door._

_"Tell them to keep moving down the hall. Do it now chickie, I'd hate to make a mess of you" Simone said, caressing the metal edge over Annabelle's jaw and staring at the officers._

_The Captain and his men reluctantly moved further down the hall as Annabelle relayed the orders._

_"Let's go chickie, no sudden moves." Shuffling forward, Annabelle was immediately aware that Simone was hurt, limping forward with her hostage._

_"Simone…" was as far as she got before they jerked to a stop, Simone hissing in her ear. "How do you know my first name?"_

_(Fuck. She's in it then)_

_Thinking quickly, "It was posted outside, by the door"._

_After a minute, Simone relaxed and started them forward again. "My, my, quick aren't they? Must have a new little duck to put first names on door tags. Well then, fair's fair, since you know mine, may I have the…pleasure…chickie?"_

_Almost at the door now, Annabelle took a chance._

_(Let this work)_

_Annabelle leaned slightly back into Simone, making as much of her body touch Simone's as possible. Feeling the slightest hesitation from the woman behind her_

_(Listen baby, please, feel me!)_

_her voice calm, she switched to French. "My name's Annabelle, but that's not what you call me."_

_They stopped again, close enough for Annabelle to see the armed officers, waiting just outside Simone's field of vision, with batons at the ready._

_Simone replied swiftly in the same language, "What __I__ call you? This just gets more and more interesting. Absolutely delicious, have we met before chickie? I'm fairly positive I'd remember, but in this place, well, you never know. But continue, what __do__ I call you?" Simone asked._

_Annabelle closed her eyes and sent a prayer to anyone that might be listening._

_(Please)_

_"Belle. You call me Belle, Simone." As the arm around her neck went completely stiff, Annabelle heard the shank clatter against the watery concrete. She whirled and looked up into shocked blue eyes right as Simone went limp and landed in the water. Annabelle's knees bruised as she immediately followed Simone to the floor, pulling the soaked figure into her lap and holding her tightly. Ignoring the officers rushing into the room, she wrapped herself around the figure silently sobbing in her lap._

_"You call me Belle, my love". _

2016

(cold, so cold, dreaming you? help call me help can't cold help breathe)

Confused and sinking quickly despite her best efforts, Annabelle was suddenly dragged back to the surface by silky skin under her hand and a firm hand on her jaw. Focus still swimming in and out, the world unexpectedly snapped back into being, lit by crystal blue eyes.

(warm, you're warm, feel you, hold onto me! ok, just breathe, listen to her and breathe, it's ok. Breathe in… Breathe out. Breathe in…breathe out, she's with me, breathe in…breathe out…)

Time irrelevant with her attention completely focused on the woman in front of her, Annabelle was unprepared for the wave of exhaustion that suddenly swamped her.

(Fuck!)

Cursing muscles that refused to respond, Annabelle tipped forward off the bed. Unable to do anything more than close her eyes

(linoleum splat, shit this is going to hurt!)

she was surprised to suddenly feel warm arms wrap under her legs and around her back, as Simone caught her and pulled her in close. The awkward catch almost dragging both of them to the floor, Annabelle was aware of movement

(backwards?)

as her Imprint lunged and they both landed in the nearby chair. As Simone held her securely in her lap, Annabelle had the strength for nothing more than to drop her head against Simone's soft neck.

(That was so totally embarrassing…thank god for super Imprints! Shit she's strong, her heart's beating a million miles an hour, think I scared her…)

Annabelle relaxed further into the secure grip of her Imprint, and the thudding heart under her ear slowed.

Starting to shiver from her sweat-soaked gown, Annabelle was startled as Simone wordlessly leaned forward and plucked the blanket from the bed. As it swirled down over her, she snuggled deeper, Simone tucking the edges around them both. Cocooned in warmth and safety, listening to the steady heartbeat under her ear, Annabelle's mind began to slowly drift.

(was there something before, I thought there was…sand? Felt like swimming though sand, but…shit, who knows, damn near passed out…fuck I'm tired, she's nice…soft but still strong…she's warm too, damn she even smells warm, wonder if...)

Catching herself, Annabelle rolled her eyes.

(what is it with you Anna? You totally freaked her out last time, give her a break)

After a few minutes, Annabelle hesitantly broke the silence. "Sorry", she muttered, staring down at the blanket. "I'm usually a lot more coordinated than this".

As she felt a faint chuckle go through Simone, Annabelle felt the last of the tension leave her. "Don't worry about it Annabelle, you're actually ahead of the curve for what…" feeling more than hearing Simone catch herself, "It'll take you awhile to fully recover".

(well, at least she's not pissed. Even after earlier, god I was such a total bitch_)_

Shaking out the pins and needles from one arm, Simone let it rest over Annabelle's legs on top of the blanket. Mustering up her courage, Annabelle looked up at Simone. Feeling the movement, Simone glanced down, directly into Annabelle's eyes.

(Wow, I mean, wow, she really is gorgeous. Holy shit. Older women have never been my type, but, there's just...this woman…_)_

Shaking the thought away as she saw Simone grow concerned at her protracted stare,

"Simone?"

"Yes Annabelle?"

"Um…you weren't kidding about me needing to touch you, were you? I mean, I couldn't breathe, even when you were telling me to, but when I touched you…, suddenly things started to work again. I couldn't…what happened to me?" she whispered.

Aware of Simone carefully choosing what to say next, Annabelle waited, her fingertips just brushing Simone's hand under the blanket.

(I just want to touch her, would she mind, I mean)

Clearing her throat, Simone began speaking so softly Annabelle had to strain to hear, "You were in a car accident, one where you were hurt badly. You had some broken bones and lacerations, but your most serious injury was to your head…"

(Oh, so that's…)

"I found the scar while you were gone" Annabelle interrupted, raising her head to look at Simone directly.

"Ah. And that's what…"

"Yeah, totally freaked me out. Anyway, keep going" Annabelle said putting her head back down.

"As I said, the most serious trauma was to your head. However, because of your other injuries the doctors couldn't treat it immediately. You went into a coma."

The faint sound of traffic whispered though the room as Simone waited for a response.

"How long?" Annabelle finally asked, looking up at Simone with weary eyes.

"Two years" Simone responded softly, searching Annabelle's face for signs of another attack.

(Two years? I've missed two fucking years?)

Silence.

"Were you one of the doctors?" she asked unexpectedly, not quite sure why she asked but doing so anyway. Avoiding Simone's eyes, Annabelle began to feel overwhelmed again,

(fuck it, she probly already thinks I'm a freak_)_

she hesitantly laced the fingers of her free hand with Simone's, while wrapping her other hand around her Imprint's wrist. Feeling Simone wince, she immediately began to move away, confused when Simone tightened her grip.

"Sorry, I just thought…" Annabelle stammered.

"It's not you Annabelle, you can…um…I mean, you're supposed to touch me. I don't mind,…I just…bruised…that wrist earlier. It's ok, really, go ahead."

Brushing away the blanket to take a quick glace at the wrist, Annabelle gasped. Further evading Simone's attempt to drop the cuff over the injury, she used both hands to bring the livid bruise closer.

(Jesus Christ, it's like someone dragged her around by a rope! Fucking asshole, I swear to god…_)_

Annabelle looked up and fiercely asked, "Who the hell did this to you Simone? And don't tell me it was a fucking accident, I know the difference".

(If she thinks I'm just going to stand by and…_)_

"Well?" she snapped, transferring her attention from Simone's wrist up to her face. Noticing Simone's stunned astonishment for the first time, she quickly reviewed her words.

(whoa! Why?...Back off Anna. You don't even know this woman! What are you doing?)

Awkwardly, she released Simone's hand. For the second time in as many minutes, "Simone, I'm…sorry, I don't know…um…sorry. Are you ok?" Hesitantly, she traced the fine bones outlined in Simone's hand, attention focused anywhere but at the confused eyes studying her.

(Shit, can I just go back to sleep now?_)_

"I'm fine, Annabelle, really" Simone said hesitantly, still watching an embarrassed Annabelle. After a minute's hesitation, she laced her hand with Annabelle's, receiving a solemn look in response. Trying to smooth the uncomfortable situation, she continued, "Back to your original question, no, I wasn't there."

Releasing a sigh she didn't even know she had been holding, Annabelle closed her eyes.

(Why do I even care?)

Simone continued reluctantly, "There's more Annabelle, do you..."

"Yeah, let's get it over with, places to go, people to see you know" Annabelle said tiredly, shifting to a more comfortable position snuggled against Simone.

(God she's comfortable, so nice. Best medication ever)

"So…what else?" a yawning Annabelle asked.

"Are you sure Annabelle? The rest can wait until…"

"What else Simone?"

"Ok. The original head trauma and subsequent secondary damage you sustained was localized around your memory cortex…"

"English Simone…"

"You have amnesia".

"Amnesia." Annabelle repeated in slow disbelief. "Amnesia? Like Days of Our Lives, fucked up don't know who you're married to amnesia?"

Annabelle's eyes flew open as she felt Simone go completely rigid.

What the…what the hell is going on? What did I say?

"Simone?" she asked anxiously, unable to get a look at her face as Simone quickly turned away, staring out the window. Frustrated, she watched Simone clench her jaw and bite out the next words.

"Ye…Yes, Annabelle…that kind of amnesia." Clearing her throat, Simone continued. "Apparently it spans over the 8 years before the accident." Finally catching Annabelle's eyes again, "Simply put Annabelle, the current year is 2016, and you're 27 years old."

"27" Annabelle said disbelievingly, searching Simone's eyes for the lie.

"27" Simone repeated, keeping her gaze steady.

_27. Did I graduate? What did I do? Where did I live? Oh my god, what about Danny?_

Trying to remain calm, "Ok. So…when will I start to remember things then? I mean, I don't remember anything except that dream I told you about".

"In my field Annabelle, we try not to rule things out but, in the past,…"

"Cut the crap" Annabelle twitched with angry tears finally welling in her eyes, "just tell me Simone".

"Fine. You won't. If you were going to have memory recovery, it would have happened in the last 12 hours. I'm sorry". Gentling her tone at the shock on Annabelle's face, "Have you had anything come back to you Annabelle? It would feel like déjà vu?...People you know in places you've never been?" Simone ventured.

Annabelle shook her head back and forth, "No, I mean I had that thing earlier, but it was more like an old Law and Order episode than anything, and I had another…uh, nice…dream earlier,

_Do you want me here…_

but, no memories. Just dreams that I don't really remember".

"Oh". Deflated again, Simone leaned her head back against the headrest. When she finally looked down again, she saw Annabelle barely awake. "I think that's enough for right now Annabelle, let's get you back into bed."

The blanket slipped to the floor as Simone stood with Annabelle cradled in her arms. Crossing the short distance, she laid Annabelle gently down in the bed. However, Simone's search to find a fresh gown for her patient was halted when an exhausted Annabelle refused to let go of her.

"Annabelle, I need to get you a dry gown, I'll be right back."

Hearing Annabelle whisper something, she bent over the bed, "Sorry Annabelle, what was that?"

An eye cracking open to reveal a sliver of blue, Annabelle repeated, "I just knew you were trying to get me out of my clothes". As Simone gaped at her, she laughed tiredly, "Kidding Simone. But I do think someone left a shirt here earlier", she said with a small smile as Simone went a bright red.

(oh fuck, I totally forgot)

"Annabelle" she stuttered, "it's not…"

"Relax Simone, I've been told before that I cling like a spider monkey when I sleep. But...can I just wear that, and get out this?" she said with mild disgust, plucking at the clammy gown clinging to her skin.

"Uh, sure, I'll just..." beginning to turn her back to give Annabelle some privacy, she was forestalled by a light grip on her forearm.

"Simone? Um, this is really embarrassing, but, um, can you?..."

Closing her eyes,

(God, it's official. You're an asshole_)_

"Sure" she said, turning around. Grabbing hold of a sleepy Annabelle's outstretched hands; she pulled her up into a sitting position again. "Tell me if you start to feel dizzy Annabelle" she instructed, receiving only a tired nod in response. Keeping her face carefully blank just in case Annabelle opened her eyes, she reached her arms around Annabelle's neck and untied the gown. Pulling if off and setting it aside, she was completely unprepared for the vision before her when she looked back again.

The midday sun had streamed through the window to Annabelle, illuminating her perfectly. Warmed mahogany hair, strong shoulders, lean muscles, and so soft skin glowed under the sunlight's caress. Feeling mouth go dry, Simone clenched her eyes shut, leaning heavily on the bed.

(She's perfect, a little thin, but…I want, I can't! Oh fuck all Bradley, hurry and get out of here!)

"Simone?" came from Annabelle suddenly. "I.." suddenly wavering, she slumped forward, against Simone. "Yeah, feeling a little lightheaded" she finished, voice muffled against Simone's shoulder. Her bare shoulders warm against Simone's supporting hands

(good job Bradley, maybe if you ogle her long enough she'll just pass out)

Simone gently sat her back up. Ordering her stubborn hands to let go, "almost done" Simone said softly, threading her patient's arms though the shirt, distantly hearing Annabelle murmur at the dry comfort. Her shaking almost giving her away, she finished with the last button and eased Annabelle back down on the bed.

She had finished tucking Annabelle in and was about to leave when her patient suddenly opened her eyes. Giving her a sleepy smile, she wound her hands around Simone's, tucking them under her chin. With a satisfied sigh, she settled into sleep.

Simone sat down hard into the nearby chair, eyes fixed on her captor. Aware only of the sunlight moving across the bed, she watched Annabelle sleep. The buzzing of her communicator briefly distracted her, but after seeing the ID screen flash, "Michael" she let him leave a message before going back to her contemplation.

Only when the room began to darken with the onset of night did she realize how much time had passed. Still watching a slumbering Annabelle, she felt her mind suddenly clear for the first time in a long while, and smiled.

(Bradley. If you do this, she'll be ok. It's all that's important)

Ever so gently, she edged free one of her hands. With infinite care, she lightly traced Annabelle's sleeping face, barely able to feel the soft skin under her fingertips.

(She doesn't remember you, and no amount of wishing will change that. Give her what you can...a lady always knows when to leave)

Tired to her bones, Simone eased both hands away from the bed and checked her messages. Dialing Michael, she waited, waiting impatiently for him to answer.

"Michael? I got your message to call...didn't expect to hear from you this soon".

"It's your lucky day Simone, I had a cancellation. Are you up for coffee tonight?"

"Tonight?" Wedging the device between her neck and head, Simone used her free hand to trace an errant lock of Annabelle's hair back into place.

(Are you sure about this Bradley? Once you start...she needs this, her doctor. Her Imprint. Not some fucked up remnant. Just do it Bradley, sooner started, sooner...done.)

"If that's too soon Simone, I understand" he said quickly. Hopefully.

"No Michael, tonight will be fine. I'm done with rounds around 9, is that too late for you?"

"Not at all Simone…are you sure tonight's ok? It's ok if you want to wait..." he asked, hesitantly, almost pleading.

"At 9 Michael, see you then. And, thank you" she said softly, looking down at Annabelle as she severed the connection.

_(_Tonight then)

Her vertebrae cracking as she stood, Simone watched Annabelle cuddle closer into her pillow.

_(_Just one time Bradley, the last time)

Cupping Annabelle's face, she so, so gently brushed her lips over the sleep warmed pair below. Tasting the love of her life for an infinite moment, she finally let go.

Her whisper floated through the dark, disturbing Annabelle even through the distance of her dreams.

"Goodbye."


	13. Chapter 13

With profound relief, Simone closed her office door behind her. The solid wood warm against her back, she leaned against the door. A quick glance at her watch

(plenty of time, another hour until Michael gets here. And with as long as Annabelle was up today, she won't wake again until morning)

and after ensuring the door was locked, Simone headed to her desk. The spare set of scrubs she dropped carelessly on the couch, and the injector and packet of Memoral went tucked inside her desk.

(Always amazed how easy it is to sign that out…anything I'm forgetting to do? Apprised Baxter of Annabelle's current condition, Kristen is off tonight and I'm not on call. There won't be any interruptions)

Simone sighed heavily.

(It's time then. Do it before he gets here.)

With a brief turn in her chair, Simone picked up the picture she had placed face down earlier. Removing the picture from the frame, she placed it on her desk, tossing the frame to the side. Then, pressing her thumb to a small, innocuous wood colored plate by her knee, she said to the empty air,

"Unlock, authorization Simone. Verify voice command and bio-lock. Confirm".

A female voice replied,

"Confirmed. Voice and bio-lock authentication."

With that, a section of her desktop sprung up. Removing the leather bound ledger from the secret compartment, she pressed the panel back down. Locked again, the seams were invisible to the naked eye.

(Handy that_)_

Opening the thick journal, the pages ruffled through her fingers as she searched for her place. Her own past tugged at her fingers, the edges of pictures, diagrams, and handwritten entries catching her eye for a second before flowing away. Finally finding the creamy, perfectly blank page, she took up her pen. The heavy paper catching at her fingertips, she slowly began to write.

_My Darling Belle,_

_I'm at the end. Now that I'm here, I know what I want to say but not how to say it exactly. Ironic for a former Literature professor._

_You woke up yesterday, finally, from the last two years. I was there when you woke, saw your beautiful blue eyes open. I was there, but it turns out you weren't. You aren't there Belle, and after a day, you're still gone. I've given up hope that you're coming back._

_I've made a decision, one that I'm sure you would disagree with. God, I even miss fighting with you, we had some spectacular fights didn't we? You never gave an inch and neither did I, but somehow we still managed to meet in the middle._

_There's no middle ground here Belle. I simply can't live without you, nor do I want to. You're the love of my life. My soulmate. And I failed you. I failed them. I'm so, so sorry baby. I'm so sorry. Perhaps it's God's small consolation through this hell that you won't remember them. I've chosen to remember as long as I can, that will be the last of the four treatments. I'll keep them, and you, with me until the end._

_Michael will be here soon with the Sacriset. Combined with the Memoral, it will first strip the emotional context from my memories, give me time to help my patient, my Imprint, Annabelle T. Tillman, recover. I've almost fallen apart every minute since you woke, and I can't do that. There are side-effects, and once I start the series, I can't turn back._

_The first treatment is always the most difficult. It has to be extremely traumatic, and acts as an anchor for the rest of the series._

_It has to be that night. When they took me from you. Good news is that I'll only have to remember it one more time, tonight, with Michael watching over me. Bad news is that there will be no waking from that nightmare, not until the memory has run its course. Sacriset is an accentuator as well, so everything is guaranteed to be crystal clear. I just won't be able to wake up. After all the nights where you held me, that time of my life will finally be done. Who knew it would only take a deadly drug combination to end that torment?_

_I'm sorry; please believe that I'm not taking this lightly. I'm not, and the choice before me is clear. The combination of Memoral and Sacriset will kill me. There's no way to stop the chemical progression once it's injected. Contextual emotion goes first, then my memories will gradually be destroyed by the drug, until my brain forgets how to breathe. Or tell my heart how to beat. Patients have told me before it doesn't hurt, but is like sinking into a fog bank. Soft and quiet, and it will happen over a period of months instead of years._

_It is a choice I alone have made._

_My one regret is that soon, I won't be able to feel you anymore. I won't be able to feel anything. Facts I will remember for a time, facts will remain. And this is The Fact, The Truth, burned past thought, into who I am:_

_There is no end, no limit, to my love for you. I've loved you through the distance of your dreams, through my own madness, across countries and time. I love you. I love you. I love you. Please don't ever doubt that._

_It's getting late now, and Michael will be here soon. There's so much I still wish I could tell you. I miss our porch time, when we talked about everything and nothing. I miss you so much._

_I love you._

A soft thump sounded through the office as Simone closed the book. Tracing the smiling faces in the photograph, she blinked back tears and suddenly slipped it into the book. Placing the journal back into the compartment, she clicked the lid shut, caressing the solid wood.

(Done. It's done.)

She was unaware of how much time had passed when a knock rapped on the door. The bolt slid back cleanly as she unlocked the door and pulled it open.

"Hello Michael"  
-

(Shit, should I tell her? Shouldn't take too long, gotta keep it together. I remember the taxi, bargirl at Charlie's, went out back…next thing I'm here…)

_blood in the sink, scrubbing blood from under his fingernails_

_(._..keep it together Mikey!)

Michael's eyes flicked uneasily around the office as he shuffled past Simone. In truth, he had missed visiting Simone at the hospital; her call this morning had come as a welcome surprise. Usually her presence and the dim lighting of the office was always soothing to him, a rarity in his world.

Not tonight.

He had been wired ever since their earlier meeting, to the point where out of desperation he finally took a little something to calm down.

(which didn't work. Fuck, I feel like shit scraped over asphalt)

Trying to ignore the muttering in his head,

(go away!)

he eased onto the leather couch and gingerly settled back. With his nerves raw, Michael almost jumped up as the door bolt clacked into place.

His misery was interrupted as Simone turned, retrieved something from the desk, and crossed over to him.

(Beautiful as the day I met her)

A spike of pain shot through his temple.

(When YOU met her? I saw her first!_)_

Michael gritted his teeth and slapped the voice away. His worn knapsack clutched in one hand, he watched her grab a chair and sit across from him. He idly noted the gold halo outlining her, cast by a nearby lamp.

(An angel)

Watching her place the injector and Memoral on the nearby table, he swallowed hard.

(Or devil. She's certainly been both)

A mental image was suddenly forced into his mind; Simone writhing naked beneath him, her golden skin shimmering under his thrusting body. The vision continued with her head thrown back in ecstasy, groaning out his name

"Michael! Oh yes, Michael! I love you! Yes! Fuck me, fuck me!"

as he drove deeper into her. Her legs clamped around him, and soft, feathered wings brushed along his sides while folding the two of them closer together.

A soft voice wove through his brain.

(Or Mikey, she could be like this…)

The angel was gone, darkness in her place. Golden curls fell gorgeously around wine-reddened lips, the goblet still twirling from a lazy hand. Simone studied him, bare legs crossed as she reclined in the overstuffed, dark brown leather chair. Black silk caressed and kissed a path down her body, and the shirt flowed over a perfect shoulder while baring the other for his perusal. Inching below her hips, it hinted at Paradise barely concealed.

(But Mikey, there's always HER…)

Hands flowed over this Simone's shoulders, caressing, lingering. Annabelle stepped out from behind the high backed chair, trailing her fingers over Simone's exposed skin as she walked around and captured those perfect lips in a brief kiss. Standing again, Annabelle smirked at him while playing with the silk between her fingers. To his frustration, Simone spread her legs wide right as Annabelle sat between them, leaning back against Simone and facing Michael. As Simone linked her arms around Annabelle's waist he could feel his pulse hammering in rage. He clenched his fists as they both looked at him with amusement.

(Poor Mikey. You know what they deserve, what they've earned)

(No! It was her choice…)

The voice grew louder as the two women began to laugh, pointing their fingers at him.

(Choice? There was no choice! That fucking girl, that perverted TEENAGER for fuck's sake, stole her from you! Simone's yours Mikey, she always has been. She needs to be reminded Mikey. She needs to be taught. They both do)

The voice now softly crooning to him, with glazed eyes Michael caressed the vial secreted in his pocket.

(It will be so easy Mikey, a little something extra in the cocktail)

(I can't)

(She'll be yours again Mikey, like she was always meant to be. Why let her kill herself? You know she'll be happy with you. She was happy with you once…just…remind her)

(I won't!)

The voice lashed through his head, and made his eyes water in pain.

(YOU WILL YOU LITTLE SHIT! YOU'LL DO WHAT I FUCKING TELL YOU TO DO!)

Michael was suddenly aware that Simone had been speaking, and was now eyeing him quizzically.

"Michael?"

"Uh, yeah. Sorry, I, uh, I'm listening"

Leaning forward in her chair, she cocked her head and studied him intently. Coming to a conclusion, she leaned back again, frowning and crossing her arms.

"Oh Christ Michael, what are you on?"

Opening his mouth, Michael was horrified to find that he couldn't speak.

(Simone, oh fuck me, I'm in control! This is my body, I control what happens! Oh my God this can't be happening, I only needed a little bit…)

A voice sing-songed through his thoughts

(Little bit, little bit, she don't know what she wants! Mikey, Mikey, SHE can't HEAR you! It's only us in here Mikey, it's ALWAYS only been us…you know NOTHING can truly separate us…little bit, little bit)

Jaw clenched, he tried to ignore the mocking laughter ringing in his ears.

Her stare now irritated, Simone waved away his silent effort of aborted explanation.

"Let me rephrase. I don't care what you're on as long as it doesn't interfere with tonight. Will it interfere Michael?"

Vicious laughter suddenly filled Michael's thoughts, and he fought jerkily against the Other's will as his head shook side to side.

(Oh yes Mikey, tell her how you'll INTERFERE with her plans! Little bitch is going to get more than she ever bargained for!_)_

(No! She needs my help! Go away!)

(Oh, you'll help her alright Mikey. You'll slip her all the help she'll ever NEED! Little bit, little bit, I know what you want…)

(No dammit! Oh please don't do this! She's my friend, she needs…)

(What she needs Mikey, is for you to go take a nap like a good little boy. My turn.)

Screaming and scrabbling inwardly, Michael fell away.

His best good 'ol boy expression firmly in place, Michael looked up at Simone. Eyes glinting with tears, he added a quaver to his voice.

"No Simone, I just needed a pick me up. This…this is hard for me too you know. I'm not going to lie…Annabelle and I were never friends, and now she's awake…I guess I just hoped…"

and hung his head with an unseen smile.

(So easy)

A light touch on his knee let him know she had fallen for it. He looked up into her apologetic face, barely able to keep from laughing.

"I'm sorry Michael, I guess we're both on edge tonight."

(Oh precious, you have no idea. Come to daddy)

Setting her glasses on the table, Simone rubbed her eyes wearily. "I thought that area would be the best, since we'll need the space" she said, motioning to the open area behind the couch. "You brought the Sacriset?"

Michael nodded. "Yep, you are one lucky lady. Took all of my persuasion skills."

_The face of the little man, spitting out blood from torn lips, the vial offered in a trembling hand…"Please!" _

Taking his hand in hers, Simone smiled to him, "Thank you Michael, thank you. Words can't express my gratitude". He could see her visibly gathering herself

(Sooo easy)

and watched as she finally stood. He could barely keep his eagerness in check.

(soon)

Holding out her hand to him, she said, "shall we"?

A solemn face showing, Michael took her hand and followed her deeper into the office.

(Oh yes. We shall indeed)

A full fledged grin crossed his face, unseen by the woman in front of him.

(you're mine)


	14. Chapter 14

**Warning dear readers, this Chapter contains a description of rape and violence. Beware.**

Anything in italics is a memory, () means internal thought. Enjoy!

2016

Tossing her shoes and socks aside, Simone stepped onto the worn exercise mat wearing nothing but her scrubs.

(Weird how they even feel like inmate uniforms)

She quickly untied her hair, letting it settle generously around her shoulders. As Michael finished putting on his more detailed uniform and stood before her, she handed him a sheet of paper.

"Just read it all the way through and repeat twice. By that time the drug will have taken effect enough for the last part", clearing her throat, she continued. "Try to stay away from the face".

"Gotcha" he said, sliding the baton into place on his belt. "Ready?"

(Am I? Ready? Belle…)

Her soft answer echoed though the quiet room.

"Yes".

The injector full of the Memo/Sacriset mixture in hand, Michael pressed it to her neck, watching the blue fluid disappear into Simone. He then slipped a remote out of his pocket, and activated the camera in the corner.

Holding her shirt with his other hand, he steadied her as the injection coursed through her system. When she finally stopped shaking, he let her sway in place and stepped back. Grinning at the paper in his hand, Michael crumpled it and threw it away in disdain.

(I've heard this fucking story so much it could be tatooed on my dick. Now for a little…spice. And some fun. Why stick to the script, right Mikey?_)_

Pacing around the swaying figure, he clasped his hands behind his back in delight.

"Name! Last name first!"

"What…?"

At her groggy answer, he stepped forward and swung a fist into her stomach. A small smile crossed his face as she dropped heaving to her knees on the mat. He spoke softly, squatting beside her as she gasped for breath.

"You aren't in class anymore Professor. This is the Los Angeles County Jail, your home for as long as the Senator wants to keep you here…"

"Wait, you can't do this, I haven't been charged…"

At her temerity, he stood and delivered a swift kick into her ribs, abruptly flipping her onto her back. Sneering into her pain ridden face he continued, "First of all, don't ever interrupt me again. You stupid bitch, you think laws apply to her? Did you really think the Senator was just going to be ok with some pervert teacher fucking her little girl every night? Her aide said she was most…unhappy…after she got that phone call. Especially since this is an election year…I have free license on your ass bitch. You've been in your little school too long."

"I…love..her. Nothing…you can do…will…change that" Wheezing, Simone fell into silence as the next kick lifted her off the floor.

(Nothing? We'll see about that! Little bitch)

Eyeing her curled form impassively, Michael considered her. "Impressive words. Won't last long. I think a night in the common dorms might help with your…disposition. Especially when they hear what you're in here for…other criminals tend to have a...jaded outlook on child molesters…Those women can be vicious."

"She loves me, and I don't expect you to understand" Simone interrupted, staring at him belligerently. A cruel hand grabbed her jaw, stretching her neck uncomfortably.

Very softly he replied. "Bitch, by the time you're done in here, she won't know you" His touch abruptly turning caressing as he stroked her cheek. "Of course, if you decide to be…nice…to me, you and I could come to a little arrangement. One that the Senator would never have to know about. She thinks you're getting the shit kicked out of you, and no one is the wiser." Rubbing the fabric stretched tight over his crotch, Michael bent close to her shaking form, "I'll show you mine if you show me yours" he said with a leer.

Simone jerked back, contempt written across her face. "You're disgusting. I want…"

His open palm cracked across her face, throwing her to the floor. "For a teacher, you're kind of slow, arentcha? Let me spell it out for you Doc, no one gives a shit what you want. Least of all me." Circling the shivering form before him, he bent down, rubbing one of her soft, golden curls between his fingers. "Last chance Doc. Here's the Senator's deal. Take it, and you can walk out of here right now."

"What deal?" Simone said, spitting blood onto the floor before she slumped against the wall.

"You don't see Annabelle, you don't talk to her, you forget about her. The Senator will even give you a free ride, free job to wherever you want to go. But absolutely no contact with her daughter. Ever again. You disappear."

He was disconcerted to see Simone give a small smile, wincing as it pulled the fresh bruises forming on her face. "Or?"

"Or, you stay here until you're…convinced…to take the deal, walking out slightly worse for wear. Or crawling. Or rotting meat in a baggie. One way or another Doc, the Senator will get what she wants. Be thankful her aides reminded her of the potential political fallout of your untimely death and the front page exclusive Annabelle would give them. You're lucky you're not in a dumpster already." Squatting by her again, he grabbed her jaw, gripping hard enough to leave new bruises. "Do we have a deal?"

Staring at him, eyes watering from the pain, Simone very deliberately leaned forward; close enough for him to feel the warmth of her skin on his face. And whispered, "Never."

(bitch is stubborn, just like the first time_)_

Pulling back, she continued, contempt dripping from every word. "I will never deny her, or what I feel for her. Beat me, threaten me, kill me, but I am hers. Just as she is mine. Distance doesn't separate us. I. Love. Her."

(you're mine you've always been mine mine mine mine MINE MINE!_)_

Tracing the blossoming bruises on her jaw, he grinned. "Wrong answer Doc. Thank you". His fist rushed through the air, the impact keeling her flat on the floor in a daze.

He quickly flipped her body, jerking off her loose pants and underwear. A well placed kick whooshed the air out of his lungs as Simone began to fight back in earnest. Regaining some air, he drew his baton and struck her behind the knees as she tried to get past him, the blow taking her legs out from under her. As he bent over her, her nails raked over his face and neck, with only his quick reflexes saving an eye. Another violent punch to her midsection dropped her on the floor again. Straddling her stunned form, he grabbed her hair and slammed her head down on the mat until she finally went limp.

Enraged at the blood he saw dripping from his face,

_(_fucking cunt hurt us, HURT US!)

Michael quickly stripped off his clothes. Using his handcuffs, he cuffed Simone's hands around the leg of the couch. The equipment belt landed heavily nearby as he grabbed a vial of smelling salts, wafting it under her nose until she began to come to.

(wakey wakey!)

Wedging his inner belt in her mouth, he tightened the impromptu gag. Stroking himself, barely able to contain his anticipation, he watched her, using his knee to wedge her legs apart. Bracing himself, thick and ready before her, he waited until she became fully conscious, and began to yank at the handcuffs around her wrists.

(MINE!_)_

The minute her eyes found his, he savagely drove himself into her. Eyes unfocused, he continued to brutally work his body against hers, leaving bruises where he clenched her hips. Hearing her scream with the pain of the assault, he backhanded her into temporary silence, continuing to slam into her as she fought against him.

He began to pound deeper and deeper as blood from torn tissues smoothed his way. Noticing that she was growing quiet, expression going vacant, he grabbed the nearby injector and gave her the second shot.

(mine mine all mine! Time to go down the rabbit hole Alice!_)_

Michael grunted with pleasure and pulled out of her, setting her onto her hands and knees. He positioned himself, and waited until she realized he was behind her before jerking her backwards and slamming forward at the same time, sinking hilt-deep into her ass. Even with the gag, her shrieks were earsplitting. Pulling almost all the way out before surging forward again, this continued until he gave a final grunt, spurting deep within the woman beneath him. Panting from his exertions, he finally withdrew and wiped off the residual blood.

_2006_

_With a grunt, the last in a series of inmates was pulled off of her, protesting all the while that he wasn't finished. Contemptuously, he threw the used condom onto the sprawled body on the floor of the cell, loudly proclaiming, "I fucked that fucking whore!" as he was hustled away. The door swung shut behind him, locking into place with a dull thud._

_The smell of dirty concrete gradually filtered into Simone's senses, easing past the darkness of the cell. She could hear inmates banging in the distance, their muffled shouts a counterpoint to the agony beating through her._

_Shying away from thought, Simone could feel the concrete leeching the warmth from her naked body. She inadvertently tensed as footsteps walked past her cell door, only relaxing when she dully realized they had continued down the corridor long before._

_(die here want to die not here never here die here now die)_

_Her jagged thoughts lurched into another rail of almost coherent thought as her body began to shiver from the cold._

_(quiet they'll come they'll hear quietquietquietquiet)_

_Whimpering almost soundlessly from the pain, she began to inch towards the bunk, leaving a smeared trail of blood and other fluids. Pain sank into her wrist, and only the scraping sound_

_(bones? Smaller softer sounds softer)_

_finally drew her attention. Staring at her lacerated, bloody wrist, she at first couldn't understand what she was seeing. Wiping away blood, she rubbed the first bead clean, remembering how they got there._

"Ah, fuck man" the first guard said, "c'mon, we don't have time for this! Just leave them!

Angrily rubbing his jaw where the prisoner had landed a lucky punch before he knocked her head against the wall, the other guard continued to try and pry the beads from the semi-conscious woman's hand. "Shit, Pete, these aren't those cheap plastic beads! They gotta be worth somthin'!" Frustrated, he gave a vindictive kick to the woman's ribs.

"Jack, come on! Quit fuckin' around with the bitch! You had your turn…"

"yeah, sloppy seconds don't even cover it" Jack muttered.

"Let's go already! This whole fuckin' thing gives me the creeps!" Pete said, pocket change jiggling as he shifted, peering nervously out into the hallway. Hearing nothing but silence, he turned around to see his partner savagely twisting the woman's wrist. "Jack, what the fuck?"

The shadowed, caged lighting dimly glinted off the beads as they were wound and jerked around her wrist, yanked tight enough they began to cut through the skin.

"If I can't have 'em, no one else is going to fuckin' get 'em either".

_They had been the first two after the One, the man whose memory made her mind still gibber in shock. Even after the first rape, she had refused to renounce Annabelle. When the next two guards had tired of her, and her answer had remained the same, inmates began to come into the cell. Men, women, they were all a pained blur; only random snapshots of each invaded her brain. After each, they had asked her the question again, and each time it remained the same. And the next would come in, with the door locking shut behind them._

_Curling into a ball, she clenched to wrist to her chest, driving the beads in further._

_(not here not here she's not here never here thank god she's not here never here not here)_

2006

Turning from the video monitor which provided a live feed from the cell, the white-faced aide rushed to the trashcan in the corner of the room, barely making it before his dinner came up. The sounds of his vomiting were loud, and filled the room as surely as the cigarette fog he waded though.

What had started as lazy smoke trails had congealed as cigarette after cigarette met their demise at the red lips of the older woman seated in the middle of the room. It had been over 18 hours since they had entered this room within the prison, and her eyes were still avidly fixed to the monitor.

"Ask her again"

The words were wreathed in smoke, the command instantly obeyed. Another aide spoke discreetly into the radio, and on the screen a guard entered the cell, and approached the huddled figure on the bunk. Rubbing her dirty curls between his fingers as she shrank away, he spoke softly as he squatted by the bunk.

"Do you take the deal chickie, or do I send in another one?"

As no answer was immediately forthcoming, the silence drew the attention of everyone in the room. Out of eyeshot, the still nauseated aide crossed himself, praying that this nightmare would finally come to an end.

So faint it was barely inaudible, the answer came.

"No."

With a sigh, the room leaned back. The Senator twirled her cigarette, and gave a new considering, glance at the monitor where the prisoner was again clenching her bead-wrapped wrist.

"Alan, tell them to wait on the next one. Get Bradley into clothes and put her into the surveillance side of one of the interrogation rooms." Standing from her chair, she moved closer, studying the image that was barely an inch from her face.

"When you have that done, get my daughter. Make sure to keep Annabelle separate from Bradley, is that clear? I don't even want her to know her…lover…is behind the mirror." Finally stepping away from the monitor, she made her way out the door. "Call me when it's ready".

_2006_

_Simone was sat down hard in the metal chair, a restraining hand on each of her shoulders._

_(she's not here never here ever here)_

_The agony making her curl over, she tried not to move any more than necessary as her wounds broke open against the uniform. She was dully aware of other people entering the room, but kept her gaze fixed on the floor. Only when she heard the voice she had alternately dreaded and begged to hear within her own fractured mind did her eyes jerk up in shock._

_"Motherfucker, get off of me!"_

_Stumbling as she was shoved into the interrogation room, Annabelle gave the handless door a kick as it was quickly shut behind her. Pacing over to the mirror that stretched the length of the wall, she hit it with the palm of her hand._

_"Mother! I know you're in there! I know you have her you fucking bitch! You hurt her and I'll fucking kill you, do you hear me! I swear to Christ if…"_

_The speaker was abruptly shut off, leaving Simone watching Annabelle soundlessly rail within the confines of the room._

_"Fascinating, isn't she?"_

_A woman is a black power suit stepped into her view. Taking a drag of her cigarette, she exhaled while still studying Annabelle._

_"She gets that from her father you know, that passion. He was the same way, always said,' why go around when you can go through'? The voters loved him."_

_Settling against the glass, the woman faced Simone. Dark hair brushed over her shoulders, accentuating her compact frame. "As for me, I love the voters. And what I know the voters will not love is the scandal of my daughter fucking her significantly older female teacher. Not even in California, and not for my upcoming presidential run in a few years. Can't win the South with a queer daughter and her, "partner". Not in this lifetime."_

_Cocking her head, she continued. "You're a quandary Bradley. I can't just have you killed, which would sink my career just as quickly as my daughter dancing in your Pride Parade. Nor do I think your aunt would take kindly to that insult. But, I also can't have you being a…temptation…to Annabelle, and so far, you've proven quite stubborn about giving her up. Unless you've decided to take my offer?" At Simone's negative head shake, "I thought not. Well perhaps it is time to a change in tactics... Alan." The Senator stood and moved behind Simone, her heels snapping against the concrete floor._

_At her word, the door to Annabelle's interrogation room opened, and two guards, dwarfed by the inmate shackled between them, entered. The tableau still soundless, Simone watched in horror as they began to unlock his handcuffs, Annabelle yelling and putting the table between them._

_The Senator's voice came calm and deadly from behind her. "Don't mistake me Bradley, or think this is some type of bluff. I've sacrificed better people than you to get where I am today, and beyond being occasionally useful, I will have no hesitation about throwing Annabelle on the pyre. I suggest you make your decision, and quickly, before she has a new experience in life"._

_Numb with shock and horror, Simone saw the cuffs fall free and the inmate start towards Annabelle as the guards left, closing the door behind them. Simone found herself on her feet, hands pressed against the glass as she watched Annabelle hit the man with a chair, and get thrown hard into the wall in return._

_(NO! BELLE!)_

_Clenching her eyes shut, she made the decision and felt something vital break deep within her chest. Shoving her screaming soul deep within the recesses of her mind, she opened her eyes._

_"Stop" she whispered, forehead braced against the glass._

_"What was that Bradley?"_

_Raising her head, Simone watched the scene deteriorate within the room. "I have certain stipulations, but I agree to your proposal Senator. Get him out of there."_

_"There is no negotia…"_

_"There is now. Your problem will still be solved, even with my conditions. Get him out of there Senator or the deal's off"._

_"Alan." At that, the two deputies rushed back into the interrogation room, pulling the inmate away from Annabelle. Quickly, but intently scanning Annabelle, Simone let loose a sigh of relief as she saw only a torn shirt and minor bruises._

_(thank god)_

_Simone limped her way from the mirror to her chair, leaning a hand on it to steady herself. Face eerily blank, she addressed the Senator, uncaring of the blood dripping on the floor._

_"My terms are these Senator. In exchange for me disappearing from Annabelle's life, you will do the following._

_Annabelle is no longer a bargaining chip for you, in any way, shape or form. You will let her live her own life, with __no__ interference from you. I see you or any of your staff anywhere near her, I involve the media, and my aunt in this…situation."_

_Leaning back in a comfortably padded chair, the Senator nodded her agreement. "She will need to be contacted when her Trust matures..."_

_"In __only__ that instance, your attorneys may contact her". Seizing on an idea, Simone continued, "but her friend, Kristin Douglas, must be there as well"._

_The Senator raised an eyebrow quizzically at Simone. "Fine. Annabelle is almost graduated anyway. Done. What else?"_

_(How can she just…later Bradley. Think, what else?)_

_Her vision graying, Simone shakily sat down. Unconsciously stroking the beads, she continued. "Before I leave tonight, I get time alone with her to say goodbye."_

_"Absolutely not!" responded the Senator immediately. "That will only…"_

_"…give her a reason to hate me". Simone finished. "You know how stubborn she is Senator; do you really think she'll ever stop looking unless I give her reason to?"_

_After a moment, the Senator nodded her acquiescence. "True", the Senator said grudgingly. "Although how you will do it, looking like you do, is a mystery to me. Just keep in mind Bradley, her immediate and continued well being is in __your__ hands."_

_"That, Senator, I'll never forget. Do we have a deal?"_

_"We do Bradley. That's all you want?" the Senator asked, eyeing Simone curiously._

_With a shaking hand, Simone covered her eyes, trying to ignore the soul-splitting agony in her heart. "One more thing. She never hears about any of this. Ever."_

_(never ever see her be here safe she's safe never here never again)_

_"Of course. When do you want your time with her?" the Senator said dismissively, glancing at her watch._

_Simone's eyes and voice were flat as she looked at the Senator. "After I have a shower and clean clothes. Send a medic in there to see to any injuries she may have, but leave her in the room. I'll also need two deputies…"_

_"Whatever you need Bradley, but, this has taken enough of my time already. I'll leave Steven here, just give your requests to him. I'll be on my way, and I sincerely hope we never meet again." Leading a train of aides and assistants, the Senator left the room._

_Looking at Annabelle pacing in the room beyond, Simone whispered, "We won't Senator."  
-_

_2006_

_The pool of light sank into the warm wooden floor of the stage, spilling out and edging into the wings. The impatient rustlings of the theatre faded away as Annabelle calmly walked out onto the center of the stage, perfect in the night blue tunic and hose of her character. With a small shake, she settled her gently pulled back hair around her shoulders before raising her eyes to Simone's. Blue held blue as a smile briefly returned Simone's own. Like the velvet of the curtains around her, Annabelle's soft, strong voice enveloped the auditorium._

_"Be cheerful, sir.  
Our revels now are ended. These our actors,  
As I foretold you, were all spirits and  
Are melted into air, into thin air:  
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,  
The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,  
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,  
Yea all which it inherit, shall dissolve  
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,  
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff  
As dreams are made on, and our little life  
Is rounded with a sleep."* _

_Her voice had barely whispered silent before the audience rose in thunderous applause. Simone stood smiling, watching Annabelle break out in a wide smile as the piercing whistles from the balcony almost drowned out the applause. As the house lights came up, the evening dress of parents and students colored the theatre, gold and diamonds throwing out sharp sparkles of light. Squinting uncomfortably against the now glaringly bright stage lights, Simone instinctively raised a hand in an effort to shade her eyes. The applause grew still louder, the lights brighter, as she stood there dazzled._

The glistening white tile blindingly bright under the institutional lights, Simone clenched her eyes shut as the hot water pounded down on her. She was on her second bar of soap,

_(_how long?_)_

And her mind kept skipping like a worn needle on a bad record. Scrubbing the soap

(on a rope shall dissolve on a rope a our little life dope soap rope sleep baseless fabric_)_

she felt her water-wrinkled hands scrub between her thighs again.

(can't get it off, still feel them, can't get it off, it won't come off!)

She dimly remembered

_(_Steven?_)_

bringing her to the showers, and left her with the worn towel, soap and her clothes.

_"Chickie…"_

(Shall dissolve, no solve, shallshallno dissolve Bradley no no)

Whimpering away from the liquid voice in her head, she covered her ears and curled further into the wall.

_"I'll show you mine if you show me yours…"_

(nononononotagainno)

_"Bitch!"_

Bursting into motion, Simone scrubbed mercilessly at her skin again causing half-closed wounds to open again, tinting the draining water pink.

(no I can't can't go away please go away no can't not clean get clean god help I can't)

Exhausted, Simone came back to herself some time later, mechanically rubbing the last sliver of soap against her skin.

(Have to give her up Bradley make her leave have to hurt her enough to make her hate Bradley me hate me. Love her. Belle…)

Keening her agonizing need, Simone curled on her side, the lukewarm water raining down on her huddled form.

(Are melted into air, into thin air)

His eyes brimming with tears, Steven rested his head against the shower observation glass. In his time with the Senator, he had been exposed to the seedy underworld of politics; destroying an opponent's life was nothing new.

(but she's not an opponent. Not even close. What they did to her…)

The complete and utter evil brutality he had witnessed in that observation room had made him physically sick. As punishment for his "weakness", he had been left behind to finalize the details of the Senator's deal.

(worked with her long enough to know better)

Unaware of the tears now running down his face, he looked though the glass again at the battered figure huddled on the floor. He was used to his job taking him right up to the line, but this…

(dear God in heaven. this isn't even politically right, this isn't even fucking human what the Boss did, Jesus Christ, look at her! The line isn't even in fucking sight man! Shit, the Boss just went fucking crazy when she got that call...)

_Annabelle had been in trouble so many times before that no one thought it out of the ordinary when the headmistress called. In fact, other than a few rolled eyes, most of the entourage were impressed that she had lasted as long as she had. When the Senator took the phone, money changed hands as several bets were finally closed._

_But the sudden…noise…that had come out of the Senator had silenced the entire room. Her face had just gone…blank, before twisting into fury as the tinny voice of the headmistress echoed out of the receiver. After she hung up, the Senator had given instructions that still echoed in his head, "Alan, cancel the rest of my appointments, I need to be in Los Angeles as soon as possible. Tell the forward security team there to detain a Mrs. Simone Bradley immediately; they can find her at Annabelle's school. Do it now."_

_They had been out of the hotel within 5 minutes, briefcases and luggage hastily thrown into the waiting limo. Within the hour, they were flying over San Francisco's Golden Gate Bridge towards Los Angeles. _

Motion within the shower area recaptured his attention, and he watched Simone shakily lurch to her feet, trailing a steadying hand against the slick wall. As she finally reached her clothes, he watched with mounting horror as she began to fumble on the torn and bloodstained garments without hesitation. Only dirty scuffs marred her jeans, but the shirt…what had started out as an ordinary red pullover had stiffened through caked blood into a maroon monstrosity. As he watched, Simone struggled it on, scattering flakes and larger chunks of…matter…in a brief mist that settled on the wet floor like a bloody rain. The cut flesh of her wrist was pale against the confining beads.

_The forward security team had been successful in detaining Bradley, and was waiting for them at the private landing strip at Los Angeles International. From there, the cavalcade had wound its way to the Los Angeles County Jail, where he had seen the quietly defiant teacher escorted through the main gate. Once inside though…_

(Favors make the world go round)

Shying away from the memory, Steven was suddenly aware that Bradley hadn't moved for several minutes. She was sitting on the shower floor again, staring blankly into space as the pooled water soaked through her jeans. Unable to watch anymore, he turned around in the confined space, desperately trying to think of what to do next.

(Shit. She's not even *there*, here and gone again. Can't take her to the hospital, Boss would take her chances with Bradley's voodoo fucking aunt. And I gotta make sure she finishes the deal, or I'm dead…)

Coming to a stark realization, Steven's mind traced the cracked lines in the cinderblock wall.

(I just…I can't do this.)

Shaking his head,

(If she's this bad now, she'll be worse after her meeting with Annabelle. Letting her leave like that would be a fucking death sentence, oh…of course. Of course.)

Almost slapping his forehead at his own stupidity

(Ah…which the Boss already knew, she had no intention of Bradley just, "disappearing"_)_

Steven's mind shifted into overdrive, as he stared through the window. Minutes stretched into an hour as he studied the shivering figure. Coming to a decision, he flipped his cell phone from his pocket and made a brief call.

(Fuck. This has to work)

The door thumped shut behind him as he stepped into the hallway and motioned to the nearby deputy.

"Get Bradley and put her in the back of my car. Make sure the driver puts up the privacy glass, I don't want her talking to anyone." At the deputy's short nod, Steven hastily straightened his jacket as he walked down the hall to the observation room.

(Here we go)

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door to furious blue eyes. With a curt nod, he dismissed the nearby deputy before taking a seat across the table from Annabelle. Inwardly sighing, he recognized the set line of her bruised jaw and the slow tapping of her ring against the metal of the tabletop. The torn cuffs of her shirt tugged along the links of the handcuffs securing her to the table as she leaned forward.

*Tink. Tink. Tink.*

"Where is she?"

*Tink. Tink.*

"Annabelle, we need…"

"Where. Is. She." With palms flat on the table, Annabelle's blue eyes bored into his own.

(C'mon Marcel!)

_The first time he had met Annabelle she was 8. The entire household was frenetically busy with the Senator's first campaign, and no one paid any attention to, much less had time for, the small girl he sometimes glimpsed around the house._

_Himself a new staffer to the then Mrs. Tillman, he had spent most of his time running errands and fulfilling the other "low man" duties. He and Annabelle had become wary acquaintances by virtue of dismissal; she from her mother, and he from the rest of the political operatives._

_Over the months leading up to the election, he became aware that while the child was physically eight years old, no one who lived in that house could keep their innocence for long. Even, or perhaps especially, children. Of slight stature and quiet demeanor, Annabelle usually went unnoticed._

_The scary thing hadn't been her presence at their strategy sessions, or "war councils" as Mrs. Tillman liked to refer to them. He frequently saw Annabelle sitting in a corner, or shadowed beside the hulking pieces of mahogany furniture dispersed throughout the study. No, that wasn't what unnerved him the most, what still made him see those ancient, heavy eyes whenever he read about her more recent, teenage, exploits._

_It was that she listened. And not only did she listen, but she understood. Annabelle fully comprehended the strategy they were going to use to finish off her mother's opponent. Bryerson, the incumbent and an old political adept, had easily avoided the attempts of Mrs. Tillman's smear campaign, and still lead the race by 20 points.  
With the election less than a month away, they had all been desperate. Desperate enough that when Alan hired Hanley a, "political contractor", no one objected._

_Hanley had come to the Tillman residence to give his progress report and that was the one time Steven had seen the beginnings of who Annabelle would become._

_The study had been dark, light from the presentation screen at the head of the conference table gleaming off eyeglass frames and polished furniture. Ready for another report of how Hanley had found some new leverage on Bryerson, no one in that room, except perhaps for Mrs. Tillman, had been ready for the type of leverage Hanley provided. Used to bribery and blackmail attempts already, what Hanley had brought to the table was…new. To Steven anyway._

_Hanley had leaned back in his chair as he clicked though the pictures of Bryerson's son, Nathan. "Using the parameters you set, I endeavored to find Bryerson's weak spot. The two older daughters are actually happily married, so there wasn't any room there. Jack is still in the Navy, and currently deployed overseas, so again, no opportunity. The other son, though, Nathan, well, I hit the jackpot with him."_

_Using the remote, Hanley began a video. A teenage boy, around 16 years old, grinned at the camera before the camera angle widened showing a bedroom. The desk by Nathan held a baggie of dirty yellowish substance, a glass pipe and a lighter. Hanley's voice was heard behind the camera._

_""You were talking pretty big back at the park Nate…"_

_With a snort, Nathan tapped some of the crystal into the pipe._

_"Uh-huh. Empty bullshit is your bag George. That rolling?" The picture wobbled momentarily as an affirmative nod was given. Addressing the camera, Nathan continued in a mock-serious voice. "Now, kids, don't try this at home" With another grin, he continued. "At least not while your parents are home. They catch you doing this and they'll bust your shit." With an eye on the camera, Nathan held the lighter in one hand and the filled pipe in the other. "Watch and learn"._

_"Are you sure that stuff is clean?" Hanley asked, just before lighter met glass._

_Nathan paused and rolled his eyes at the question, "YES George, for the millionth time, it's from my Dad's stash. He only gets the prime shit. Now shut the fuck up will you?"_

_The room had watched. And learned, all the way from Nathan's first sizzling puff until he finally passed out directly in front of the camera, slumped over the desk and drooling. Only when a fairly sizable puddle had accumulated did Hanley pause the tape.._

_"It's not a very well kept secret that the kid had a drug problem a couple years back. The family did the intervention, sent him to counseling, the whole nine yards. No one knew he still had it, much less that he inherited it from Dad."_

_Almost drooling himself, Alan Parker leaned forward, eyes fixed on the frozen image. "Fantastic work George, absolutely wonderful. Right in time for the next news cycle, we can get it to…"_

_"But that's his secret" a quiet voice came from the foot of the table. Like a ghost, Annabelle had suddenly appeared, face tense with frustration. "He thought you were his friend, and that's his secret!" The room fell silent as all eyes turned to Mrs. Tillman._

_After a considering pause, she spoke. "Annabelle, unfortunately, is right Alan. It would be quite useful footage, but it isn't as if George is unknown in our world. What chance is there of it backfiring on us?"_

_Gesturing at the screen, Alan replied with a tight glance at Annabelle, "Almost zero. No one is going to care about the guy behind the camera with THAT to watch. Even if someone does pick up on it, so what? Doesn't change the fact that the kid is doing crack from his old man's stash. We CAN'T afford not to take advantage of this opportunity! Bryerson's already done his victory lap for Chrissake!"_

_There had been no more argument after that. Looking around while the rest of the group hammered out the release details, Steven was in time to see Annabelle slip out the study door. Mumbling to his colleague that he would be right back, he grabbed her coat and followed her to the autumn chilled back garden. Taking a seat beside her on the cold, wrought iron bench, he silently handed her the bright pink jacket._

_Could find her in the middle of the Met if she was wearing that!_

_Quiet reigned as both watched the wind thread its way through the loose leaves blowing over the pavers. Random wind devils threw up the leaves a few inches, rushing around the garden in blank haste._

_Uncomfortable, and not quite sure what he was doing there, Steven cleared his throat. "Annabelle, Nate,..um, Nathan will be ok. Think of it this way, he'll finally get the help he needs…um, his dad too." At the continued silence, he stumbled to a halt._

_Great. Freaked out by the Kiddy of the Corn_

_He was startled as Annabelle suddenly turned to him, sitting cross-legged on the bench, studying him as her wrist scrubbed the tears away. A small hand clenching a wadded tissue, she finally spoke._

_"You seem nice. You shouldn't be here." Continuing to wipe her dripping nose, she cocked her head. "You'll either be a man-eater or a zombie". Eyeing him critically, "I think zombie, but I thought Alan would be a zombie and he's a man-eater…why __are__ you here? You don't seem mean" she asked with a sniffle._

_"What? I…, Annabelle…" confronted with her teary deep blue eyes, he was honest for the first time since he had stepped through the Tillman's front door months ago. "I want to change things, make them better…"_

_"Have you?" Blue eyes, seeing right through him._

_"Not yet, but sometimes you have to wait to help people…" he began as she screwed up her face in disagreement._

_"My Daddy says you can't wait to help people, that they need help now and not later. When I climbed too high and got stuck" she said with a gesture at the massive oak at the edge of the garden, "my daddy came and got me right then." Eyeing him suspiciously, "why would you wait to help someone in trouble? That's mean!"_

_now I remembered why I'm not having kids_

_Not quite knowing how he got on the wrong end of a conversation with an 8 year old, he desperately thought of his own childhood._

_Um…, well maybe, yeah, ok, yeah, she'll like that! Hell, maybe it will make her feel better about the whole thing…hah, maybe it'll make me feel better about it_

_"Well then Annabelle", he started nervously, clearing his throat. "My, um…daddy, um, he told me a story once…would you like to hear it?" At her hesitant nod, he continued._

_His ass already well on its way to numb, Steven shifted and made himself more comfortable._

_"It was almost November at the North Pole, and it still hadn't snowed. Being so dependent…"_

_"What's depident?" Annabelle said, huddling into her coat._

_"It means they have to have it. Now, as I was saying, they needed the snow for their water and as the level in their water tank dropped…"_

_"Why did they have a tank for water? Couldn't they just go to the kitchen if they were thirsty?"_

_"Um, no. Um, things work differently in the North Pole, so…"_

_"But…"_

_"Annabelle Marcel Tillman" he said, in his best adult voice. "Now shush, and listen to the story"._

_With a pouting lip, she fell quiet, waiting for him to continue._

_"As I was saying, they…uh, needed the snow for their water, and as the level in the water tank continued to drop, the townspeople became more and more worried. As the snow still didn't come, they finally set out to ask for help from the strongest people they knew._

_They went to Santa's Workshop first to talk to Santa, and asked if he could help make the snow come. He replied that he couldn't stop making presents, he didn't have the time, and he needed every second between now and Christmas. That's when he whistled for Rudolph, jumped on the sled and flew away to check on his elves._

_Now Annabelle, this really surprised the townsfolk. While they loved the toys Santa gave out every year, they needed the water from the snow much more. But, since Santa wouldn't help them, they hoped even more for Frosty the Snowman to help them. If anyone could, it would be the man made out of snow! They walked and walked to Frosty's home, which was deep in a cave so he could stay frozen all year long. With chattering teeth, they made the same request of Frosty._

_To their dismay, Frosty gestured to the mound of carrots beside him, and the growing pile of peeled carrots behind him. He replied that he had to provide the carrots for all the snowmen of the world. To take the time to help the snow come would set him too far behind, because what is a snowman without a carrot as a nose? With a merry wave, he wished them well in their quest before trimming yet another carrot._

_Now the townspeople were sad and getting scared. With heavy feet, they began the walk back to town. Picturing their children's thirsty faces, they made one last stop at a cluttered clearing on the edge of town that they usually avoided._

_A junk yard of greeted them. Lots of things of all shapes and sizes poked out of the fresh mud; there were long wooden cedar poles topped with bicycle wheels and even what looked to be a big tree covered in chicken wire. A tall, silver haired man hummed to himself as he positioned a bent metal picture frame against a tottering pile of rocks._

_The bravest among them came forward, and asked the same question. To the surprise of the group, the tall silvery man immediately agreed to help. Leading the group, they hiked to the tallest meadow on the mountain, where with great ceremony the man removed his shoes and shirt, giving them to one of the villagers._

_Then he began to dance._

_He danced among the trees, the rocks, the little stream and the long grass, asking for the snow to come. He danced for hours, sweat running down his face as the sky grew cold and dark with clouds. As the wind began to howl and the townsfolk retreated to the forest's edge, he continued to dance, flickering in and out of the shadows._

_And then a single, solitary, snowflake fell. And then a second. Then a third. And suddenly, it was snowing._

_And the man still danced._

_Only when the world was completely white with blizzard did the exhausted man stumble back."_

_Enthralled by Steven's story, Annabelle waited. After several seconds went by, she finally asked impatiently, "who was it? Who helped them? Was it an elf? Who was the man that brought the snow?"_

_With a small smile he replied. "The one who always begins the winter…" _

"Jack Frost" he said calmly, watching the blood drain from her face as she stopped in mid-rant and fell back in the chair. Standing, he straightened his tie in the mirror to give her a minute to recover, briefly catching her eye before his glance flickered to the camera and back again. At her look of comprehension, quickly masked, he faced her again.

"Shall we?"

At her immediate nod, he called the deputy to unlock her from the table before escorting her through the door.

They were both silent down the long corridor to the outer gate. As the last door clanged shut behind them, he put a restraining hand on her arm as she began to speak. Biting off the question she had almost voiced, they continued to the car in silence.

He caught her puzzled glance as he continued up the long limousine to the driver's area and dismissed the driver for the day. As soon as the uncomfortably attired man had hailed a taxi, accustomed to the vulgarities of the Senator's staff, Steven closed the limo door with them both inside.

The explosion was immediate.

"What the FUCK is going on Steven? I haven't heard you use our emergency code since I was fourteen! Where is Simone? Is she ok? Where…"

The events of the last 22 hours suddenly hit him like a brick wall, and it took him several tries before his voice would work. "I'm, god, I'm sorry I had to scare you, I just…it's…I…I just didn't know how to get you out of there without a fight and there isn't time I don't even know if there's time now…and she, she needs you…" Taking a deep breath, "Annabelle, something's…happened…to Simone, something…" Unconsciously glancing at the opaque security glass dividing them from the passenger area of the limo, his attention flickered back to Annabelle. Noticing the watching gate guards, he nervously motioned for her to move.

"Switch with me, we need to get out of here. I'll fill you in while I drive. We can't stay here, we have to…"

A soft touch on his arm stopped his rambling.

"Steven", she asked softly, eyes searching his face, "what happened?"

He took a deep breath, just as a muffled thump echoed up from the back of the car.

(fuck)  
-

2016

The dim overhead lights flickered off Michael's belt buckle as he finally pulled it closed. Sweating, he sat in Simone's desk chair, eyes fastened on the still figure on the couch. Rubbing his face in his hands, he wondered for the millionth time how things had gotten so out of control.

_(_She still hasn't woken up…I should have just told her! Fuck)

Guilt riding him hard, he continued to stare over at Simone. Even now, the purpling bruise was deepening over her cheekbone, the split skin a striking exclamation. He had used the dermal regenerator to the best of his ability, but she would still have some excruciating bruising when she woke.

(I stopped the…the…bleeding, but…I just lost it. What have I done you crazy fuck…and I can't remember, fuck, did I give her the right one? Did I even do that right?)

Sweeping his arm across the desk in rage, he suddenly found himself again standing over Simone. Fists clenched, he fought to control himself.

(She's yours now…)

"Bullshit!"

(Quit your fucking bitching! This is what you wanted!)

"Not this way" Michael moaned.

(Whatever. She's yours now. Just don't fuck it up!)

Shaking his head back and forth, Michael backed towards the door. "She's not mine, not mine, not like this, nono, not like this". Bright light briefly outlined his departure, before the door fell shut behind him.

_She was in the desert again. Whirling dust devils sped over the sun baked ground, throwing gusts of gritty sand and tumbleweeds skyward in a bizarre dance._

_(I hate this fucking place)_

_Brushing back her whipping hair yet again, Annabelle scanned the uniform landscape. Chunks of rounded gray stone wrapped by piled sand surrounded her. Restless blue eyes searched the monotony as she continued walking towards the nearby sandstone cliffs._

_(Where is she?)_

_Coming out of a shallow valley, Annabelle saw a flash of golden hair in the distance._

_"Simone! Simone, wait!"_

_Annabelle broke into a confused jog as Simone turned and ran toward a low cave at the base of the cliffs._

_(Oh don't you fucking DARE!)_

_"Dammit, Simone! Simone, fucking wait!"_

_Powered by rage and panic as Simone disappeared into irregular shadows, Annabelle ran for the cliffs as fast as she could._

_(Not this time!)_

_Half sliding into the cave, Annabelle spat the sand from her mouth and heaved the dry air into her lungs. The cave was a black pit as her eyes adjusted from the brightness outside. Blind, she followed the sound of scuffs as Simone made her way deeper into the crevice._

_Hands held out in front of her, and praying she didn't die of a cracked skull, Annabelle heard Simone's harsh sob as she realized her pursuer was hot on her heels._

_"Simone, wait! Just stop dammit! Talk to me!"_

_The rough edges of the stone against her hands took on definition as the glare from the sands outside finally faded. Following the dim outline just ahead of her, Annabelle lunged, her fingers brushing Simone's bare ankle just enough to knock her off balance and into the cool, soft sand. Scrabbling forward before Simone could get completely to her feet, Annabelle fought to keep her grip just as Simone twisted in an effort to escape._

_"Baby, wa…wait…Sim…dammit, Simone, fuck, stop!"_

_Gripping her sobbing lover close, she was unprepared as Simone stopped trying to push her away and instead met her in a fierce kiss, her hands locked in Annabelle's own._

_"I love you". Barely whispered, intently heard, it nonetheless filled the space around them._

_Losing herself in the kiss, Annabelle cursed as Simone took advantage of her momentary lapse and twisted to her feet._

_"Wait!"_

_(I can't lose her again, I can't!)_

2016

Sudden mumbling filled the quiet room.

"Wait. Jus wait…Simone. Wait, plea…just…please…wait. Please. Wait, Simone…please…"

Annabelle sat up in her bed, sleepily shoving away the blanket.

(Where is she?)

Fighting against the

(sand)

sheets, Annabelle's weak kicking finally untangled her legs. She slid out of bed, her feet padding on the cold pink linoleum as she made her way to the door.

(She's here, I saw her go in)

The weight of the heavy door pushing her off balance as it clicked shut behind her, Annabelle stumbled against the opposite wall in the empty hospital corridor.

"Jus…wait, I'm co…wait…"

Her fingers wedged against her temples, Kristin walked down the corridor.

(2 more hours and I'm done for the night, thank god!)

While a night of breaking in new staff had made the hours fly by, it had left her with an amazing tension headache. While Kristin had finally run out of stubbornness and popped a couple of aspirin, it had yet to take effect. She continued to study her patient schedule as she rounded the corner.

(I have just enough time to look in on Annabelle before my next training round begins...)

A heavy thump in the ordinarily deathly quiet coma wing jerked her head up.

(OH. MY. FUCKING. GOD.)

The med pad clattered to the floor as Kristin dropped to her knees and whipped her scrub top up around her face.

(Pleasepleasepleaseplease don't let her have seen me!)

Leaning into the wall, she heard Annabelle muttering as she tottered past her down the corridor. Kristin restrained a gasp as Annabelle trailed a steadying hand over her bare shoulders.

(FUCK. I know Simone locked it against anyone else getting in, but I didn't even think about Annabelle getting out!)

Edging a glance around her shirt, Kristin watched Annabelle continue. Her breath faint, Kristin hit the Emergency override button on her communicator, effectively breaking into and silencing every other communicator conversation in the hospital.

"Attention! This is McConnell. I'm declaring a Level 5 Alert for levels 2-4, clear the corridors immediately! Patient Tillman is ambulatory! C&C if you see her, do not, I repeat, DO NOT attempt to contain! Contact Dr. Bradley immediately, I need her up here! Everyone else, clear out!"

And with that, Kristin so, very, cautiously began to follow in Annabelle's wake.

Trailing her fingers against the

(rock)

wall, Annabelle made her way down the corridor. Eyes squinted against the bright light,

(fucking sun hate this place)

she continued, stumbling down and across pre-dawn corridors. The motionless, covered figures of caught-out hospital staff went completely unnoticed.

Finally, just as her wobbly legs began to give out, she fell to her knees against Simone's office door. Frustrated as the handle refused to turn, she weakly pounded on the door, her hand unintentionally slipping across the access panel.

"Request confirmed. Access granted, Tillman, Annabelle M."

Annabelle toppled into the dark office as the door clicked open. Exhausted, she almost cried out in frustration as her eyes desperately searched the office.

(Where is she has to be here saw her go in!)

A sigh of pure relief escaped her as she spotted the almost obscured blond curls at one end of the couch. Annabelle fought her way to the limp, blanket covered figure, using all of her weak resources. Arms quivered as she used the last of her strength to pull herself onto the couch, falling into the perfect hollow between the unconscious Simone and the back of couch. Her head fell to Simone's shoulder as her overtaxed body began to shut down. Annabelle's eyes closed with a sigh as she wrapped an arm tightly around Simone and passed out.

_There was blood everywhere._

_She was so cold._

_Broken pieces of dirty ice rimmed the rocks near Simone's head, and her wet leather coat was no comfort in the freezing darkness as it wrapped around her waist. As she struggled to make her shaking hands wipe her vision clean, she heard Annabelle struggling beside her in the wrecked car._

_"Belle? What…" Simone struggled dazedly against the pain in her head._

_"Oh thank God you're awake Simone! We've got to get out of here, the water's coming in! Can you…"_

_Fading out for a minute, Simone gradually came back to Annabelle yelling._

_"Simone! Oh God, baby, please! Simone! I can't reach…can you…please, baby!" Annabelle sobbed._

_(I can't. I have to!)_

_Letting the blood drip from her mouth instead of wasting energy spitting it out, Simone moved to unbuckle her seatbelt and ended up screaming as knives tore into her chest. Struggling for breath, she tried by sheer force of will to make her numb hands press the release button._

_"Oh Simone, please baby please I'm fucking pinned! Can you…! Simone, reach!"_

_And Simone fell back into darkness._

_They were at the beach. Finally._

_This late in the year they pretty much had things to themselves. Sand that had been uncomfortably warm just a month ago now required a blanket for any length of time. Which was fine with Annabelle, as snuggling up against Simone was high on her, "Top 10 Things to do with Simone" list. Wasn't in the top 5, but let's face it, those top 5 were hard to beat._

_Smiling at the thought, Annabelle pulled tighter the arms wrapped around her shoulders, leaning further back into her lover._

_"Any tighter and I'm going to have to resuscitate you" whispered the laughing voice into her ear, finishing the sentence with a kiss._

_"And here I thought I was going to have to do that last night", Annabelle teased back with a smirk. Hearing nothing but silence from behind her, Annabelle looked backward, twisting quickly in Simone's grip as she saw the falling tears._

_"Baby? Baby! What…?" her almost frantic query cut off as her lips were fiercely captured. Eyes locked on each other, Annabelle simply watched and felt as Simone ran her fingertips through Annabelle's hair, stroking gently over her face and neck, seeming to memorize each inch. Finally, leaning close enough to feel the warmth of her skin, Simone whispered, "You already have"._

_Now showing tears of her own, Annabelle had no words as she gathered Simone close, her hands gliding under her sweatshirt, trying to show her love through pure amount of touch. "I love you" soundlessly rained from her lips against welcoming skin, and like the tide, was returned to her in kind._

_Here, there, everywhere. They were complete._

_Afterward, as sweat drenched skin mixed with the salt mist of the waves, Annabelle listened to Simone's steady heartbeat under her ear. Completely content, Annabelle suddenly jerked and cursed as she felt a sharp sting on her leg._

_"Motherfucker! What the?...Simone, did you see what the hell bit me?" Looking at her leg, she was confused to find not even a scratch. Confused and a bit pissed to be so rudely brought out of her reverie, Annabelle tossed aside discarded clothing and blankets._

_"Son of a bitch! When I find you…"_

_Struck by her lover's silence, she looked up to find herself alone._

_Whipping her head around, Annabelle was dumbstruck to find nothing but empty sand and water around her._

_"What? Simone? Simone!"_

_Heedless of the chill against her naked skin, Annabelle ran to the water, trying to peer past the fog that had suddenly rolled in._

_"Mo? Where are you? Baby? SIMONE!"_

2016

"Goddammit Joel, I thought you said she wouldn't even notice this time!" Kristen said, as she tiredly watched Annabelle jerk, groan and go still again on the drone monitor.

"I SAID", the doctor replied through gritted teeth, "that with this much inactivity she should have lost her waking sensitivity. She shouldn't have even felt the needle, much less have it jerk her out of dreamland like that!" Frustrated fingers rubbed his own temples as he set down the remote. "McConnell, she was only awake for what, 3 days? And only started walking again for her one trek down here right?" he said, gesturing to the now cluttered corridor outside Bradley's office.

At McConnell's affirmative nod he continued. "Well then, I'll say it again. She should have lost her skin sensitivity. She should have relapsed into a vegetative state if any, not this, this, prom night hangover bullshit she's been stuck in for the last month; almost waking up and going under again. She should at least be reacting the same to the nano's as she did for the last two fucking years!" Now on a roll, his frustration came out. "And you know what else? That's only the shit going on with HER!" he yelled, pointing at Annabelle's image on the monitor.

"There's no reason, even with the damage the 'bots found with Dr. Bradley, that she's still comatose. Nothing!" Enraged, the young doctor picked up and flung the remote against the wall, watching it smash into smithereens. Chest heaving loudly in the silence, he said softly, "You know I did my residency under Simone. She would get every weird, unsolvable case the world over referred to her. Jesus, you should have seen some of the shit she got from Beijing."

Sliding down the wall till he bumped the linoleum floor, he stared at McConnell. "I've never seen anything like this. Not with one person, and certainly not with two. If we hadn't scrubbed their tests for everything, I would say they were 'bot attacks. But as it is, I very simply, don't know what to do next."

Letting her own head fall into her hands, Kristen studied the monitor. Dr. Zue had finally consented to go off for some much needed rest.

(God, he was almost as tired as I am)

They had tried everything. Ever since Annabelle had, by some miracle of God, managed to wander her way to Simone's office and collapse on the couch, the floor had been in an uproar. Dr. Bradley had immediately been paged, and it was only when the onlookers had heard the notification alert going off inside the office that they realized the situation had just gotten much, much worse.

Kristen's lips quirked.

(Just like Annabelle to accidentally save someone's life)

If she hadn't literally fallen on top of Bradley, they never would have found her in time. Simone's initial scan had triggered a critical alarm from the drone they had hastily edged into the office, forcing emergency nanobot injections for Bradley.

(I've never programmed 'bots so fast in my life)

At that time, they hadn't even had time to check the office logs for the bastard that had damn near killed Simone. Only when Simone and Annabelle were finally stabilized in the ensuring days did Kristen have time to check the visual logs.

And found nothing.

Simone had apparently used her Level 5 override to turn off the office monitors. An action that almost got her killed, since turning off the visual recorder also turned off the installed Bio-Scan safety device.

(If Annabelle hadn't…)

But she had. And now that they were both somewhat stable, they were having a hell of a time getting them out of that mode. A week after the "walking incident", they had sent a robotics team in, intending to move Annabelle back to her room.

She didn't even make it on the stretcher.

The robotics had lifted her torso away from Simone when alarms started going off. Annabelle's blood pressure skyrocketed, while Simone had just…stopped breathing.

Immediately giving the robotics the order to drop Annabelle and give treatment to Simone, they had gotten as far as releasing Annabelle when Simone gasped. Winding her unbroken arm around where Annabelle rested once again on her chest, Simone continued to breathe on her own, to the amazed consternation of the bystanders outside.

Cautious subsequent tests had proven Kristen's worst fear. What had started as a normal Imprint relationship had become one where the two women simply couldn't be physically separated. Period. Even the oversized shirt Annabelle wore caused problems when it covered too much skin, making both patients restless and causing dips in their vitals. As soon as it was removed, once again, the readings stabilized.

They had managed to transfer the couple to a bigger twin hospital bed installed in the office, but other than the maintenance 'bots they had injected, the medical staff was helpless.

So they watched, and waited as the two women inside grew closer to each other, and further away from the rest of them.


	15. Chapter 15

2016

Like a thick layer of dust, frosty sunlight carpeted Simone's office. Alone but for the steady breathing of the two entwined women, the light gradually made its way into the far corners of the office. A slight creaking near the door announced the visitor before it whirred into the room on near-silent treads. Taking up a station near the foot of the bed near the wall, it waited as the struggling sunlight ebbed and grew dim.

With a furious gasp, Annabelle woke, her words driving the silence from the room.

"Don't you fucking DARE run from me!"

Her own words wrenching her fully awake, Annabelle stared in confusion at the wide skylights letting in the twilight.

(What the…? Where?)

Swiveling her head around, she studied her surroundings in confusion.

(This is so not my room.)

Instead of feeling frightened, she instead felt an overwhelming sense of comfort at the office. The furnishings were obviously well used, but…comfortable.

(Like a professor's office. Looks better the more you beat it up)

Everything just fit. With a sigh, Annabelle settled back.

(Always nice to wake up with someone too, how long…WAIT)

Twisting her head around, Annabelle was astounded to see Simone's sleeping face.

(Ummm, ok, what?...Cause I'm pretty sure I'm...)

Her hands plucked up the sheet as she peeked underneath.

(Yep. Naked. Totally naked. With my doctor. Imprint. Whatever the fuck she is!)

Her eyes widened as the ramifications hit her.

(Naked. In bed. With my really, really hot doctor. Who is still asleep. Did we?...)

Unable to resist, Annabelle carefully turned within Simone's grip, checking as she did so that Simone was still asleep. Settled again, Annabelle's mission was abruptly derailed as she got a clear look at Simone's face. Coming up on one arm in concern, she traced the faint bruising and scarring on Simone's cheek.

(What the…)

Lascivious thoughts now aside, she swept back the sheet, incoherent rage flooding her veins at the damage she found. A thin cast of some sort immobilized Simone's left arm from shoulder to wrist, somehow flexing at the joint as Simone shifted uneasily. Continuing her inspection, unexpected tears came to her eyes as the severity of Simone's injuries made themselves evident.

(Sweet Christ. Broken fucking arm, looks like she was kicked in the ribs, probly broken, LOOK at that on her stomach and back! My God, are those finger bruises on her hips? How would?...)

Her mind supplying the answer to her own question, a shocked Annabelle failed to notice as Simone grew more and more restless.

(What the hell is going on!)

Slowly untangling herself from Simone, Annabelle swallowed hard as her stomach roiled. Biting back the urge to vomit, Annabelle gripped the edge of the bed, trying to summon the will to stand up as Simone whimpered behind her.

(Fuck. I gotta…)

"Annabelle!"

Her head whipped around at the concerned voice. Eyes grew even wider as she found no one in the room.

"Annabelle, lay back down!"

Still scanning the room in confusion, Annabelle shook her head trying to clear it.

(That's it. It's happened. I've finally lost my shit. Being asleep for two years has rotted my little human brain)

Summoning her will, Annabelle determinedly stood up as a high pitched alarm went off behind her. Startled, she lost her balance just as a robotic rolled up to her from its invisible post at the foot of the bed.

"Annabelle! Please, you have to get back into bed!"

Annabelle eyed the robot with distinct disfavor from her new home on the floor. She clenched her eyes shut, and then shot them open in pain.

"Annabelle!"

"Quit…shouting, and just tell me where the bathroom is!" she responded somehow past the pounding headache that had just erupted. Which only got worse as she tried not to think of how she was having a conversation with Number 5.

(A bitchy, female Number 5!)

"There's no time! Get back in bed!"

"No! Bathroom!" she replied through gritted teeth.

"You stubborn little bitch! Look at Simone!"

Chancing a glance back, Annabelle was dumbfounded to see an unnaturally still Simone.

"What?..."

"Move it! NOW!"

Moving from the floor with the assistance of the robot, Annabelle fell back into the bed, almost blind from the pain in her head.

"Now what?"

"Touch her! She's your Imprint, remember?" An almost snort came from the robot as Annabelle hesitantly felt her way to Simone and put her hand on her shoulder. "No, TOUCH HER"

"You mean?..."

"TOUCH HER IDIOT OR SHE'LL DIE!" the little robot bellowed.

(She can't! Not after all this!)

Shaking the random thought away, Annabelle hugged against Simone, winding herself tightly around the still form.

"She's not breathing!" Annabelle said in a panic, her hands cupping Simone's shoulders.

"Breathe for her then dammit!" came the irritable reply.

Carefully, Annabelle settled Simone's head back, and placed her lips against the chilled ones below. Sending deep breaths of warm air into Simone's lungs quickly exhausted Annabelle. Just as her shaking lips swept down for another pass, a warm hand threaded itself through her hair. Her arms trembling, she sighed in relief as dazed crystal blue eyes opened into hers.

Her eyes blinking into focus, Simone's sleepy smile unexpectedly took Annabelle's breath away. Gently brushing back the locks at Annabelle's temple, her words caressed Annabelle's face as their eyes remained locked.

"You're…here. You're back. I knew…knew…you'd come back. I just had to wait and…" Simone's expression darkened momentarily, confusing the silent Annabelle further. Shaking her head slightly, she continued.

"And here you are. God, Belle, I missed you."

Still completely confused, Annabelle's own eyes nonetheless darkened with tears. Blinking them back, she didn't hesitate against the warm, loving hands that drew her down into the kiss.

Warm lips drew upon still-forgotten memory, meeting each other as friends, if not yet lovers. What started with a feather brush touch deepened as Annabelle's falling hair curtained them together, blocking out the rest of the world.

(My God Simone, what are you doing to me?)

Annabelle's breath came in short gasps as Simone nibbled on her lower lip, kissing her past distraction and back. The sheet fell to the floor as Simone slid her hands over defined shoulders and down Annabelle's back, tracing over muscles there before sliding back up to cup her face, kissing her fiercely.

With a moan, Annabelle leaned into the kiss, trying to slow down even as her body demanded more.

(Never like this. Fast. Too fast. Wait)

"Simone…wait…" was all she got out before Simone ducked her head, capturing a taut nipple in her mouth. Overdone by sensation, Annabelle arched upward on her knees, straddling Simone with her only support a warm hand caressing her lower back.

(How did she know?...oh God, too long, now, please!)

"Simone" she breathed into the air as Simone shifted her attention to her other breast. Knotting her hands in the blond curls, she forced Simone to look at her. Blazing blue eyes met her own

_In agonized frustration as her skirt slid higher, almost urged higher by the intent focus of her English professor. Conscious of her roommates only inches away, Annabelle shifted forward again, her crossed legs exposing gorgeous inches of thigh bookended by a scruff of plaid and the clinging leather of her boots._

(Oh love, you can't keep ignoring me!)

Her eyes waited as Simone's heated gaze made its way past the pews separating them. So very slowly, Simone made her way up the rich offering of exposed skin, across the light cotton expanse of Annabelle's shirt, and lingered on the fine links encircling and capturing her neck. Her professor's attention barely evaded capture by Annabelle's wet lips, and was finally taken prisoner by Annabelle's own agonized gaze.

Simone's brief head shake broke Annabelle's heart, even as her eyes clenched shut.

(Fuck, why are you fighting this so hard? Why? Fighting us dammit!)

Annabelle was the first to her feet as the chapel bell rang seconds later, ending the service. Almost running, she slipped past her confused roommates as tears streamed down her face. Once past the crowd, she broke into a sprint and headed for the orchard at the far end of the campus. An air-spun whirl of white apple blossoms marked her path as she ran by, her boots a thudding counterpoint to her broken heart.

Finally skidding to a stop against a tree, Annabelle burst into tears. Hugging the tree tightly, she dug her fingers into the bark until she felt the pricking of splinters beneath her nails.

(It's never going to change. We've been doing this for MONTHS, I know she loves me, she knows I love her, and she won't fucking just LET ME IN!)

With a cry of rage, she drove her fist into the tree, again and again as her pain bubbled over. Alone in her misery, she sighed as she heard footsteps quickly approach.

(Fuck. Collins, go away!)

"Collins, I just really need to be alone righ…"

Her sentence was cut off as she was quickly spun around to meet an absolutely furious Simone.

"Never Annabelle! Never, ever because of me!" she yelled, punctuating each declaration with a shake. "What were you thinking!" Grabbing Annabelle's bleeding hand for further examination; she was unprepared for the enraged hand that shoved her stumbling away.

"Fuck you Simone! Who the fuck do you think you are? Coming here like you give a shit, when it's convenient and no one's around! Fuck you! You can't keep doing this to me, to us!" Scrubbing her tears away, heedless of the streaks of blood left behind, Annabelle whirled to leave.

And was jerked back around again.

Simone's face was almost apoplectic in its rage. "Fuck me? FUCK YOU! Fuck you Annabelle! I've told you that we can't…"

"Not can't Simone! Won't! You won't let us be..."

"God Annabelle, stop being such a child! It's not that easy and you know it! It's…"

"Exactly that fucking easy Simone. I love you! How many times do I need to tell you before you hear me? I love you. I LOVE YOU!"

Annabelle screamed to the trees around them, her arms wide open as she faced Simone defiantly. She was prepared for anything but Simone striding forward, grabbing her shoulders and shoving her against a nearby tree before fiercely claiming her in a bruising kiss.

Shock overwhelmed Annabelle, driving her on pure emotion. Frantically, she wound her hands in Simone's shirt and dragged her hard against her while claiming Simone in kind.

Their first kiss.

"I love you" Annabelle mumbled against Simone's lips some time later, feeling Simone smile in response.

"I know you do" Simone murmured before resting her head in the crook of Annabelle's shoulder, brushing her lips back and forth on the exposed skin.

"Then why?" Annabelle asked softly, running her fingers through tangled golden hair. She abruptly tightened her grasp as she felt Simone stiffen and start to move away.

"Relax Belle. We need to get some things worked out and I can't think when I'm touching you". Gently untangling Annabelle's hands, Simone dropped a brief kiss on slim fingers before taking a few steps away.

"I'll keep that in mind" Annabelle said as she settled against the base of the tree, watching Simone start to speak several times before running her hand through her hair in frustration. Apple blossoms continued to fall as Simone splashed back and forth through puddles of sunlight, the gold of her cross scattering prisms around the small glen.

Finally, Simone stood still with her head bowed, hands on her hips and facing Annabelle. Annabelle grew more and more concerned as Simone stared at the ground.

"You're wonderful Annabelle" Simone said abruptly, scattering the silence. "Absolutely brilliant. You're smart, and clever and beautiful and brave. Mother Immaculata doesn't scare you, and I seriously doubt she ever will. You're so intuitive, and can see what people aren't saying through what they are. Just look at how Collins has blossomed with you around!"

"That's me, the human gardener" Annabelle said wryly, trying to catch a glimpse of Simone's face.

Ignoring the interruption, Simone continued. "You're honest. And so kind it breaks my heart." Taking a deep breath, Simone raised her face, revealing nothing put engraved pain. "And, above all, you're strong. So very, very strong". Pacing again, Simone fought for words. Watching a batch of blossoms drift on the wind, Simone continued.

"I am none of those Annabelle, except perhaps intelligent. Simply put, you need a person who will be a match for you, who can not only keep up with you but challenge you to keep up with _them__. I am not that person, and it would be wrong of me to pretend that I was." Taking a shuddering breath, Simone said softly, "I do so, so, wish I were that woman Annabelle. But I'm not. And I simply refuse to hold you back from the great events in your life, simply because you are with the wrong person. I love you too much for that". Exhausted, Simone slumped to the ground against a tree opposite Annabelle._

"Bullshit" came the soft rejoinder. "You're just scared." Getting to her feet, Annabelle watched Simone straighten up warily. "You're scared, not because we're wrong, but because we're so right Simone, so right you can feel it here" she said, patting her palm on her chest. "You're so afraid you're talking yourself into this bullshit. And you're smart enough to do it too my love" she said with a wry smile.

Going to her knees in front of Simone, "You and I are so right together, you can feel me from across the room, loving you. Wanting you," she said, cupping Simone's cheek. "I choose _you__. Why are you making this so hard?" she whispered._

"Belle", Simone's agony leaked into her voice.

"Stop. Just stop". Annabelle hushed as she put her finger across Simone's lips. "Listen to me now. I've made my choice. I choose you. Every minute I'm awake, my joy is that it's you. When I'm asleep, it's the dream that when I wake, you'll be there. It's you. And I'm not letting you go. Never. Not ever."

(Please baby)

Leaning forward, Annabelle traced her hands through Simone's hair while gazing intently into her eyes.

(Please)

Simone's kiss was deep and binding, the promise Annabelle offered taken and held close. "Never ever then Belle. Never

Ever" Annabelle whispered to Simone who whipped up her head at the word. Searching Annabelle's eyes, Simone began to cry at the comprehension she saw. Ignoring the sudden chirping of the alarms, Annabelle rocked Simone back and forth, holding her as she wept.

"Never ever Simone. Nev…"

A sharp sting interrupted Annabelle, who didn't even have time to turn around before the sedative took effect. Slumped in Simone's arms, she missed the twin injection hitting Simone, knocking her out just as quickly. Still wound together on the bed, the robotic put away the injector while draping both sheet and blanket over the pair. Whirring towards the door, it dimmed the lights before locking the door behind it. 


	16. Chapter 16

Present Day

The dark of the closet was a haven after the querulously bright lights of the hospital's main corridor. Shaking from the cold, Michael tucked his hands under his arms as he listened to the squealing gurney traffic outside.

He had barely made it. On a Saturday night it had been easy enough to duck inside through the catastrophically busy Emergency entrance. As medical staff streamed around the groaning, bleeding islands begging for help, he quickly shuffled through the mob, trying to avoid notice. Only one nurse, strangely familiar looking, had given him a confused inspection, but then she had been distracted by arcing blood and screams.

(lucky me)

Quick footsteps squeaked by the door, and he hastily muffled his panting against the filthy leather of his jacket. Easing away from the door, his fetid smell disgusting to even him, his red-rimmed eyes jerkily scanned the shelves.

(there's gotta be something, anything!)

The panic of potential failure made him shudder.

(I promised.)

He woke with it behind his eyes, driving him to his feet and off stained mattresses and cold cobbles. Michael had watched the late news the same day he had…seen… Simone, closing down the bar, pounding the shots down until the end of the telecast, his own gruesome recollections a remembered overlay.

She hadn't been mentioned that night, or the next nights afterward. She was alive.

(thank beautiful Christ)

Since then, he had waited, watching the days tick away. It kept him going, this…quest.

(the only thing...)

whispered the cold voice.

"Shit." He whispered, shrinking back and squatting against the corner as voices rang out in the hallway. He knew roughly where he was, but Simone's office was still a floor away, and enough off the beaten path that he would be noticed. A spasm of paranoia burned him, and his filthy fingers darted into his jacket pocket again, fingers groping momentarily before he held up the small, neon blue vial with a sigh of relief. Carefully, he inserted it into the injector, clearing out the air with a soft hiss.

(tick tock)

Patting the glowing blue back into the dark recess, he reached into his chest pocket, pulling out the second trigger. He had been studying it for a month, every since Simone had entrusted it to him. Studying it again for the millionth time, he grimaced as he turned it in the dim light.

"I don't get it." Michael muttered. "What the fuck is so special about **this?"**

The stifled air or the closet grew dank, and with a muttered curse he swiped some of the shelved green linen. Wiping his sweaty face, he suddenly grinned as it unfolded, the hospital scrub shirt cascading against his arm.

(bingo)

He whispered, his jacket landing on the floor.

* * *

"Simone".

Her name whispered in her ears as Simone jerked awake with a gasp, with only the warm weight of Annabelle keeping her from falling out of the bed. Concerned blue eyes studied her face as she caught her breath.

"Bad dream?" Annabelle asked, leaning on an elbow as she settled next to Simone.

"_Simone, reach!"_

Studying Annabelle's face and finding only concern, she relaxed back against the pillow. "Something like that" she replied with a sigh, rubbing her eyes awake and very conscious of Annabelle's proximity. And, as her quick glance ascertained, her very **naked** proximity.

Apparently her glance was not quick enough, as Annabelle grinned. Blushing hotly, and at a loss of anything else to say, Simone asked, "how are you feeling?"

With a yawn and stretch, Annabelle folded her hands on Simone's sternum, gazing up at her. "A little stiff, but not bad. I can move around a little more before I have to come back." She stroked her hand along Simone's sheet covered side. "Not that I really want to go anywhere else anyway".

"Be…Annabelle…" Simone forced out uncomfortably, tripping over Annabelle's name. Her eyes darted to the side before Annabelle gently cupped her face, making her look at her from mere inches away. Gentle fingertips stroked her eyes closed as Annabelle ran her fingertips over Simone's temples and through her hair.

"It's…it's…Belle, isn't it Simone? Not Annabelle. Not from you." Annabelle said haltingly, trying to make sense of what sounded right to her as she continued to caress Simone's face. At Simone's slow nod, she continued, studying the face below her. "Why won't you look at me?" she asked quietly.

After a minute, Simone blinked her eyes open, struggling to not lose herself as she looked directly at Annabelle.

(do it)

"I don't know who you are." Wincing at Annabelle's tense face, she sat up, leaning against the headboard as she tried to voice her scattered thoughts. "I just don't know who you are. Which Belle are you? I know you're not my…not the woman I knew two years ago, or even the person of five years ago. For that matter, I'm certainly not the person you knew back at St. Theresa's."

(Just do it don't drag her down)

"You've been gone for two years Belle. A lot has changed." Spiking her tone with indifference, she tried to ignore Annabelle's shadowed face as she fidgeted with the sheet.

"What? You've been gone for…what the fuck does that mean Simone?" Annabelle said, her temper flashing to the surface. "I wasn't here so you just moved on? Is that it?" Her temper grew as Simone avoided her furious gaze. "Well? Did you? Did...

...you really think I wouldn't look for you?" Annabelle snarled, gaining the attention of every miscreant in this little pissant bar. Wide, torn ceiling fans turned the stifled air as her security detail shifted uneasily. Sand screeched under rickety stools and sandaled feet as the bar patrons turned towards the commotion. Ignoring everything but the woman in front of her, Annabelle slapped her hand down on the table, ignoring the two wiry, very tense men sitting on either side of Simone. "Goddammit Simone, look at me!"

"_I'm right here", came Simone's distant voice, before the hospital room woozily faded out again._

El Obeid, Sudan. 2010_  
_

With a clink, Simone dropped the chipped shot glass on the sticky table before slouching back in her chair. Simone's bloodshot blue eyes studied Annabelle for a moment before she motioned her own guards back to their seats. At that, the bar relaxed, half pulled weapons retreated to sheaths, and muttered conversation returned around them.

"Misha, Ibrahim, meet Annabelle Tillman" Simone intoned as she poured herself another shot of the dubious looking liquor. Shooting it quickly with a grimace, she continued after wiping her lips, "What are you doing here Belle? Don't you have an interview to get ready for?" Another quick shot before Annabelle's angry face. "You…don't want to disappoint Annabelle. People have been coming to the camps for weeks once the word got out." She was startled as the next shot was quickly jerked out of her hand, slipping easily between Annabelle's lips a moment later.

"I need to talk to you Simone. Now." Annabelle said, trying to keep her temper.

"You need to g'way. Now." Said Simone immediately. "Don't have an'thing to say to you. Made that clear 'fore I left."

"Left? Left? Is that what you call it?" Annabelle snorted derisively. "Before you ran away you mean. Coward", she spat.

"Potato, tomato sweetheart" Simone slurred, getting unsteadily to her feet. "Bye now Belle. Selemm. See you later. In 'nother life, maybe." Unconsciously, she rubbed her chest, swaying heavily into the wall.

With surprising quickness, Annabelle rounded the table, her open hands giving her passage past the tense guards. Catching Simone as she stumbled again, almost falling, Annabelle blinked past tears.

(it's been so long)

"Fucking go away Belle". Simone rasped, her tanned hand absently rubbing over her heart, turning her head towards the smoke covered wall.

"Fuck you Simone, I'm not going anywhere. Stop it" she murmured as Simone tried to move away.

"You gotta, have to stay 'way from me".

"Why?" She asked, the question that had haunted her for years finally given voice. "Why is it so important to you that we're apart? Tell me WHY Simone!" As Simone remained silently swaying, Annabelle sighed. "Fine. We'll talk about this when we're back at the compound."

Simone's head snapped up, her panicked expression alerting her guards. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

"You aren't going anywhere without me Simone. Not this time." Tightening her grasp, she raised her voice. "Officer Markus, try not to hurt them." At this, four of her detail started towards them, immediately gaining the attention of Misha and Ibrahim. Short knives appeared in their hands as left the table and blocked the path.

"Hurt us, little miss?" Ibrahim murmured softly, his attention on the men circling closer. "I think not." He and Misha crouched, balanced on the balls of their feet, pockmarked knives readying the air for violence.

Her suddenly sober eyes focused on Annabelle, Simone murmured. "You don't know what you're doing."

Equally focused, Annabelle leaned in, feeling the heat of Simone's skin. "I don't care. I'm not letting you go Simone. Never ever, remember?"

A lance of agonizing pain shot across Simone's face, before she gently cupped Annabelle's face before murmuring:

أنا أحبك. أحبك وراء البحر ، السماء ، وراء الرمال التي لدينا يوم واحد من احتفال الهدوء.

With a pained, wistful smile, she suddenly barked a sharp phrase, causing her two guards to look at her with incredulity.

لا تقتل!

They glanced at each other before Ibrahim spoke over his shoulder.

هل فقدت عقلك تماما امرأة؟

Simone suddenly laughed.

لا يا صديقي تماما. أريد فقط أن يغادر من دون قتل اي شخص. أخرجني من هنا قبل ان يكسر قلب بلدي سخيف.

The sweating men of Annabelle's detail hesitated as Simone's defenders suddenly stood, folding the knives back into their loose robes. They continued to stand, hands by their sides, open and empty as the commandos approached. Just as Markus reached them, chaos exploded.

A heavy stool, slung through the air from behind them, crashed into two of Annabelle's guards, sending them to the floor as outraged patrons swarmed the rest. Off balance, Annabelle and Simone crashed to the floor, separated. Ducking under a sweaty grab, Annabelle saw swift movement as one of Simone's guards engaged her own while the other swept Simone up in his arms, his dark eyes apologetic before jerking away. Making her way after him through the fracas, eyes searching for the telltale flash of gold; she was unprepared as a hand on her boot suddenly jerked her backward.

"Motherfucker!" she swore, looking back at the grinning face holding her leg. She kicked back viciously, feeling the crunch and yelp even through her heavy boot. She looked forward just in time to see Simone, vaguely on her feet again, stumble into a hallway, Ibrahim and Misha defending her retreat. Ibrahim looked towards her with a brief grin as squeezed through the doorway. He looked at her, yelling a comment with a grin as he flung the door closed.

أرجو أن لا تتخلى بسهولة الآنسة تيلمان. أنا حقا لا.

"Dammit!" she gritted, squirming through the wreckage, before a bloodied hand stopped her again. Wheezing and holding his side painfully, Sgt. Markus shook his head, "it's not safe Miss Tillman. We can't…"

"I don't care!" she replied, shoving past him and through the doorway. Following the trio ahead of her through the dark storeroom, she saw a flash of light ahead as Simone and her guards went through yet another door. Shoving a sack of quinoa out of her way, she pushed open the sun-baked back door. And straight into the Market.

Bright light and cacophonous sound blinded her. When her eyes finally adjusted Annabelle found that she was again surrounded, this time by shoppers, thieves, and hawkers striving to sell her their wares.

(I can't see!)

Annabelle gained the curses of an irate grocer as she frantically hopped on the top of his wagon, searching desperately for Simone. Her heart fell, as she saw nothing but the dizzying array of robes and the curious gazes of onlookers.

"Simone!" she yelled at the crowd, hoping for any betraying movement. Anything. "Simone! Wait!"

(not again)

It had taken years to track her this far. In a panic, she almost overlooked the still, black robed figure on the opposite side of the Market. While the face was hidden in shadow, bright sunlight glinted off crystal blue eyes, as the figure regarded her silently.

(god please!)

"Wait!" she screamed, jumping off the stall and scattering the vendor's goods. Reaching out to shove people out of her way, she was completely unprepared for the heavy arm that wrapped itself around her waist from behind. Before she could twist and see her assailants, a heavy blanket was flung over her head and she was thrown over a hard shoulder while the vendors and shoppers squawked and scurried away. Her breath was pounded out of her as her captor ran down a side alley, his shoulder cruelly jabbing into her stomach. Just as quickly, she was pushed roughly into a waiting car. At least three men spoke hurriedly in a language she didn't understand as the car bounced down the pothole-ridden street, hurtling around corners. Minutes later, it finally screeched to a stop. Rough hands peeled her out of the car, her efforts at fighting back only gaining her a heavy cuff alongside the head. A door slammed behind her...

Present Day

...As warm hands and warmer lips pressed against the nape of her neck. Waking from her remembrance, she found that Simone was slowly rocking them both, holding her tightly from behind. A sour smell involuntarily scrunched her nose. Still confused, she heard Simone say, almost conversationally, "A month already?"

"Yeah." Came a low voice. "Here." Through her disorientation, Annabelle heard him step closer, and with a whisper of brushing skin and a faint clink, pass something to Simone. "Ready?" The man's low voice finally beat back her confusion, as her coordination returned and she turned around to see who it was. Mud-caked hiking boots, filthy blue jeans, a roughly patched brown leather jacket…

Then Simone leaned in front of her, her face filling her vision, before pinning her to the bed with kisses.

"Don't look baby. Please." Simone breathed when they came up for air, her eyes holding her captive before urgently kissing her again.

(what?)

"Simone, what…" was all she got out before her lips were captured again. Annabelle was vaguely aware that Simone had swirled the sheet over their heads, soft cotton draping their melded outline. Annabelle heard a hiss, and opened her eyes to see a metallic injector slipping away from Simone's shoulder. As Simone slumped against her, staring at a wide copper disc in her hand, she then turned her head and smiled at Annabelle, searching her features. The quiet clicking of the door went unnoticed.

"Simone? Who the fuck was that? What did he…" A warm finger pressed against her lips.

"Shhhh Belle."

"Don't shhh me! What…"

"I love you. I'll be right back." Worry flickered across her face. "Don't..." Smoothing her fingertips against Annabelle's lips, her eyes closed.

"Simone! Simone, wake up!"

Her cries echoed out into the empty hallway.

"Simone!"


	17. Chapter 17

Present Day

Annabelle chewed at her lip as the robotic slowly withdrew the filled ampoule from Simone's limp arm. With silent motion, the sample withdrew into the holding area with a faint click before the unit rotated and moved to the door.

"Look at the window Annabelle."

Gritting her teeth, she tightened her grip on Simone as turned her head away from the door, staring at the dripping rain outside as she heard the robotic leave the office. Annabelle unconsciously smoothed her fingers over Simone's shoulder, tracing the soft musculature as she tried to keep hold of her temper as fury and worry twisted her face.

(Fuck fuck fucking asshole motherfuck!)

It had taken less than a minute for Annabelle's yells to bring help to the door. It had taken another five minutes to get her to give Simone's arm to the robotic.

"Annabelle, are you sure you didn't see the man's face?"

Annabelle counted to ten before she answered. "Like I said, all I saw were his grungy ass clothes, and you already picked up the scrubs he left."

"And you're sure you didn't recognize him? His voice wasn't familiar? A smell, anything?" the voice

(McConnell. Her name is McConnell, and she's trying to help)

"Yes I'm sure! Now what the hell is going on with Simone? Why won't she wake up?" Annabelle said with frustration while gently brushing back Simone's hair from her wan face. She had looked tired before, but now…Annabelle kept her cradled in her arms, Simone's head on her shoulder, her own hand high on Simone's chest for when the doctor's breathing grew almost too faint.

"We're running the blood sample now Annabelle, but we won't know anything for a at least an hour."

"Well, did you at least figure out how he got in here?" Annabelle said, closing her eyes. This Nurse McConnell was obviously trying to answer her questions, but…

Simone was so still. Usually when she slept she was like a magnet to Annabelle.

(Hah. I was never a cuddler, but didn't really have a choice with Simone. Honestly, I never really minded either. I wanted her as close as she wanted to be)...

Sudan, 2010

...It was hot. Really hot. And the blanket over her head wasn't helping. She had tried not to breathe so much, but it was so hot…

(it's just a blanket Anna.)

And sooner or later, it would come off. Had to come off. She had done enough interviews with hostages to know that if you had no value, you were ignored or dead. And she wasn't either, so

(I have some value)

She shuddered as she considered what her "value" in this part of the world would portend. The series she and her producer had visualized was from the victim's

(slave's)

point of view, from capture until sale. With a few, major safeguards built in. They wouldn't know her name, but the buyer and terms of sale would have already been agreed upon. The terms were simple.

Limited abuse, no torture. No rape. No irreconcilable maiming.

The buyer was to be in Dubai to minimize "travel damage".

(was, going to, was supposed. Didn't count on a call that Ricky had gotten lucky, that one of his ferrets had found something. Someone)

The grinding car slid to a halt as she was hustled out the backseat, up some stairs, and judging by the drop in temperature, into a building of some sort. Disorientated, Annabelle was sat down hard before the blanket was ripped off. Annabelle steeled herself, knowing what was coming next.

The whistles were loud in the enclosed space as the group of men got a look at her. Her eyes smarted as a lantern was pushed closer to her face, as a grimy hand grabbed her chin, tilting her face this way and that. Another fingered the linen of her shirt, raising it appreciatively before she shoved it back down. A spurt of the same language Simone had used followed, as the men became visibly cheered at her bright blue eyes, and at their good fortune.

Everyone knew that girls with blue eyes sold for more.

One of the men emerged from a side room, carrying a rough dress, apparently made out of sackcloth. He tossed it to Annabelle, gesturing she change.

(no time like the present Anna)

"No."

Her speech apparently startled the men. Knowing it was fruitless, she nonetheless stood, squaring her shoulders and dropping the dress to the ground with disdain.

The thinnest of the three darted over toward her, pointing at the dress with a grim expression. His face grew thunderous as she again refused. Now yelling, he slapped her across the face, again gesturing at the dress.

He was completely unprepared as she uncurled with a roundhouse to his jaw, sending him tripping backwards to the floor in pain, his compatriots bowed over in laughter.

His next blow wasn't a slap. Nor were the ones after, those that eventually sent her unconscious, with blue eyes on her mind.

* * *

(think I'm dead)

Tasting the rancid bile in the back of her throat for the third time this morning, Simone leaned her head out from the cot, retching into the nearby bucket and barely missing the side of the tent. The heaves finally tapering off, she rinsed her mouth with warm water, spitting it at the bucket before retreating under the blanket again, hands pressed against her throbbing skull.

(Jesus ow. Sleep just go back to sleep)

Satisfied with this course of action, Simone huddled back into her blanket, her hungover mind jumping from point to point despite her best attempts to shut it back down.

(she looked great. those eyes, so sexy when pissed, how did she?…)

Squinting her eyes back shut, Simone gritted her jaw, willing Annabelle from her mind.

(Like that ever works Bradley)

Sighing, Simone finally began to drift back to sleep, her long night before urging her on.

And then the tent flap was flung back, the obscenely bright light spiking her hangover back into awareness. Dragging the pillow over her head, she determinately stuffed her face against it, ignoring the intruder.

"Dr. Simone…"

"Go away."

"But Dr. Simone, there's someone…"

Simone growled and flipped over on her side, the rickety cot swaying dangerously. "Dr. Petraus is on call. Go get…"

"Excuse me Dr. Simone, but we can't find Dr. John and Melle…"

The blankets exploded off the cot as Simone snarled awake. "Fine! Jesus! For god's sake tell them…" She looked up from buttoning her shirt to an empty tent. "…that I'm coming". Checking her boots for visitors before shoving her feet into them, she flung back the tent flap, eyes squinting against the harsh desert sun of Darfur. She threw her guards a savage look as they fell in beside her, which was promptly ignored by both. A trail of red dust followed them as they began trekking their way through the camp.

Already dappled with sweat after a few paces, Simone's mood was not improved. "You two are supposed to be my guards, correct? Pray tell why" her voice rose dangerously, "I'm awake again, two hours after I went to bed?" She waived impatiently back at a gaggle of kids waving enthusiastically to her.

"Are you not feeling well Dr. Simone?" Ibrahim asked courteously, his eyes roving the refugees along their path as an almost unnoticeable amusement twitched on his lips. A tall, wiry man standing 6'5" in his sandaled feet, Ibrahim made his way through the crowd that gathered whenever one of the doctors was outside the makeshift clinic.

"She has not had her breakfast, that is the trouble" Mischa commented from the rearguard as the daily business of the refugees commenced again behind them. A finely trimmed beard outlined his broad features as he grinned unseen behind Simone. "Yes, no breakfast and no **company** for breakfast". Ducking as their path took them close to what would generously be called a shelter, he sighed as Simone's shoulders tensed ahead. However, Mischa blinked in surprise as the usual snarl was not forthcoming. Even Ibrahim looked back in surprise before gently wading through the increasing crowd.

The shifting furor in front of the clinic was dazzling before it gradually formed into a bastard queue before the main doors. A variety of volunteers triaged those in line, either passing them forward into the clinic, or gesturing them to sit against the outside wall to wait.

"This early?" Simone questioned, checking her watch. The all night game sessions, either poker or cock fighting, were still underway. They wouldn't see the sore losers from those contests for another few hours. Her early retirement from the all-night poker game she'd found after

(running)

escaping Annabelle had surprised her fellow players. Dr. Bradley was known for outlasting last call. Tearing their way past desperate hands, the three ducked inside.

The wailing gasps of the injured greeted them, as well as Melle, the head nurse who started updating Simone on the various patients as the doctor scrubbed her arms and hands clean with the small solar faucet. Still listening, Simone jerked her head to Mischa to find out what had happened during the night. Gratefully downing the aspirin and water Ibrahim passed to her, Simone began directing the rest of the small staff that had gathered at her appearance. Almost intangibly, the frantic furor settled down into manageable chaos as Simone went from patient to patient.

"Where's Dr. Petraus?" Simone asked, as she finished stitching up another deep cut. Throwing the gloves away in a bin, she took another grateful gulp of water from Ibrahim.

Ibrahim gestured them over to a quiet corner area where Mischa waited by a weather beaten desk. The smaller man spoke quietly as she wiped her face free of the early morning heat. "It's not good Dr. Simone. The Janjaweed raided again last night, over on the eastern edge of the camp, curse them." He spat on the floor before continuing. "Dr. Petraus heard that there were injured…"

"Ah shit." Simone cursed as she rubbed her still pounding forehead. "And so he went out to help, didn't he? There's a reason we only treat at the clinic dammit! Do they have any idea where he is now?"

Mischa shook his head. "He was on the outskirts when the raid came back around. They haven't a body yet so…" he shrugged.

"So he is either cut up into pieces or now a guest of Colonel Isuri. Wonderful. And Dr. Jursen won't be back for two more weeks. Melle," she said, catching the nurse's attention, "notify the Canadian embassy. I doubt it, but maybe they'll be able to ransom him. Damn, a personal doctor is worth his weight in gold to those terrorists. And they know it." She cursed again as she sat down on a folding chair, staring absently at the mud-bricked wall. "I'll be the only one here for the next few weeks, so we'll have to limit the clinic hours…"

"There is something else, Dr. Simone." Mischa interrupted. "A man from Darkwatch Industries arrived the same time as I, and has demanded to see you. He seems quite insistent."

"Darkwatch? What the hell? Why does he want to see me?" Simone shook her head in irritation. "I don't have time for a sales call…"

"I do not believe he is not here to solicit, Dr. Simone." Mischa said carefully. "He said that he has a client missing…"

"And I need your help" interjected the darkly tanned, ubiquitously uniformed man from across the room. Dressed in desert issue BDU's, the man looked at Simone and nodded politely to her guards. At her impatient gesture, he joined the group in the corner. "I'm Captain Reuben from Darkwatch Industries, and my client has been missing for 9 hours."

"Then your client is either dead or on their way south to the diamond mines." Simone said brusquely. "Either way, I'm not sure why you think I would be able to help you."

The man sighed. "Let me be direct. Your aunt is Imogen Bradley, of New Orleans, correct?"

Simone's eyes went flat and still as she crossed her arms, leaning back in the chair. "Yes. And?"

His gaze was steady, even as Ibrahim nonchalantly stepped forward between the Captain and Simone while Mischa yawned and went to the window, eyes fixed on the mercenary's back. "I believe that this client is high profile enough that she will be sold on the private market in the next few days. However, I need someone with…connections… to this industry to tell me the time and place. I've been told that your aunt has the necessary resources to obtain that information."

Ibrahim stirred. "An armed encounter would be unwise".

The Captain nodded. "Which is why the full resources of Darkwatch have been approved for the uh…sale."

Simone snorted as the legs of the chair thumped back down. "IF" she emphasized, "my aunt had that information, she would already have approached your company to negotiate a price".

The Captain nodded. "Indeed. Which leads me to the conclusion that the price for my client is extremely expensive, for a private sale to be this quiet…" he rubbed a hand through his crewcut, "it's special, most likely only the wealthiest four or five buyers in the world."

Simone's eyebrows rose. "Who'd you lose, Chelsea Clinton?"

The soldier pulled a photo out of his folder and handed it to her, watching as the color drained out of her face. "Worse. Annabelle Tillman."

* * *

Simone pinched the bridge of her nose as the butler came up to her plush chair, the delicately imported tea tray in hand. Efficient and silent, just the way her aunt liked her staff; he pronged two cubes of sugar into her cup before handing it to her.

"Will there be anything else Miss Simone?" his asked, his cultured voice interweaving seamlessly along the shifting breeze. At the shake of her head, he inclined his head, retreating down below the teak deck.

The tea doing nothing to settle her nerves, she clinked the cup onto the nearby table before pacing along the upper deck of the yacht, waiting upon her aunt's pleasure. The distant twilight skyline of Jeddah glimmered across the straight as she wearily leaned against the rail. She absently brushed more of the clinging reddish dust from her shirt, resulting in a fine amber cloud that drifted down into the water. Plagued by pot holes and flat tires it had taken her, Mishca and Ibrahim over a day just to reach Kassalla. Only a significant amount of American dollars carefully applied to a Colonel had enabled her to charter an overnight, chicken wire flight from there to Port Sudan.

(she'll know where the sale is, she has to)

Forcing herself to take deep breaths Simone locked her hands around the rail

(she's valuable, they won't hurt her)

Wheezing as her panic increased, Simone fumbled a small bottle from her pocket, and quickly dry swallowed four of the pills. Grimacing at the bitter taste, Simone closed her eyes and leaned her head back, her mind's eye bringing up the long ago memory of a beach and warm, smiling laughter as strong arms held her tight.

(Sweet girl)

"I'd ask for three guesses as to what put that smile on your face Simone, but that would be a pathetic commentary of my own mental acuity" the brusque voice said, snapping Simone from her brief reverie. A hand up to ward off the setting sun's glare, Simone turned as Andrew held her aunt's chair. Waving him off as she settled into her own chair, Simone studied her aunt as she was dissected in turn.

Light linen fashion, elegantly cut and dyed a deep indigo clothed her aunt. Still fit into her seventieth decade, Imogene Bradley was the oldest of the Bradley sisters. Blonde hair now gone snow white was pulled back into a severe but comfortable bun, just as designer sunglasses concealed sharp grey eyes, and a sharper intellect.

Silence coated the deck, the distant crying of the gulls the only counterpoint to the waves.

"I see that your quality of help has finally increased, if not your personal presentation", Imogene finally said, focused briefly on Simone's travel stained clothes before she waved her hand toward Mischa and Ibrahim stationed nearby at the bow of the boat.

"They do their jobs" Simone stated, ignoring the first sally and trying to cultivate an unconcerned air as she picked up her tea cup.

Her aunt's eyebrows lifted. "Their jobs and then some Simone. They nearly took the building down getting you out of that hovel yesterday." She sniffed before pushing up her sunglasses and taking a delicate sip of tea. "I hope you gave them a bonus, or at least a nice tea set."

"Aunt"…Simone began before she was abruptly cut off.

"Yes yes" Imogene said with another brief cut of her wrist, "I'd already assumed this wasn't a social call. So. To the business at hand." She took another sip of her tea, grey eyes flat, waiting.

Simone took a breath. "What do you know about Annabelle Tillman's abduction?"

The clink of the fine china against the end table was loud as her aunt eyed her, and settled further back into the voluptuous cushions. "Why" she said, dabbing the corners of her mouth with a gossamer napkin, "do you want to know Simone? As I recall, you went through significant trouble to prevent her from discovering your whereabouts." A curious glimmer flickered through her eyes. "Have you finally decided to have her killed?"

"No!" Simone's breath burst out before she gritted her teeth in an effort to regain control.

"No" her aunt repeated softly, eyes still fixed on Simone. "Not that. So then, why?"

Making the conscious effort to relax, Simone replied, "an officer from Darkwatch visited me. They're prepared to…buy…Annabelle at auction, but need the location specifics."

Imogene smiled. "Ah. Disappointing, however expected. I thought as much. The alternative would be" she paused, "too out of character for you." Motioning Andrew for a refill, she gave a tight smile. "What is Darkwatch prepared to spend on this little cock-up?" She took a sip. "I imagine their reputation will be quite tarnished when this comes to light."

Simone leaned forward, turning the empty cup in her hands before she looked over at her aunt. "They have offered you a finder's fee of five million dollars, as well as a future discount to services…"

Imogene waved her hand, interrupting her niece. "Simone dear, the reserve for the sale begins at five hundred million dollars." She watched as all the blood drained out of her visitor's face.

Simone's jaw dropped. "What? Five hundred million! RESERVE?" Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Are you…"

Imogene huffed as she added a twist of lemon to her cup. "Certainly not. You would have to be a lunatic to handle a sale of Tillman's magnitude." Dropping the wrung rind into the saucer, "really Simone, to not only address the complications inherent in her celebrity, but work with the buyers as well in this short of period?" She threw a manicured hand up in the air. "Madness. You would spend an absolute fortune in bribes just to get her out of the country. Ridiculous. " The deck was silent for a few moments as Imogene watched her niece in the near dark.

"However…" Imogene tapped a delicate nail against porcelain.

Simone's eyes flicked up. "However?"

"As one of the foremost dealers in this region, I have of course been invited to the sale. One must keep up appearances, and it should no doubt prove to be quite the spectacle." She sipped at her tea, grey eyes fixed on Simone.

Wary now, Simone leaned back. "What's your price?"

Imogene threw her head back with surprisingly light laughter. "Ah, Simone" she said finally, carefully wiping her eyes dry. "I've missed your…direct approach to life. You want something? You go out and get it. Usually." She amended, as Simone tensed. "Anyone else would have assumed I would 'help'" Imogene said, fingering quotation marks in the air,"out of the goodness of my heart." Grey eyes focused on blue, "but not you" Imogene said softly, "no, not you. Have you ever wondered why that is?" She waited a moment as Simone looked at her confused.

Her smile died after a few seconds, and Imogene leaned back against the pillows. "Ah. So not yet." Dismissing the subject with a flick of her wrist, she called, "Andrew!"

Soft footsteps heralded the servant's return. "Yes, Madame?

"Bring Claus here immediately."

"At once, Madame."

"I haven't agreed to do anything for you, Aunt" Simone said, anger bringing her to her feet at the mention of Imogene's business manager.

Imogene gave her first real smile of the night. "Of course you did darling. You wouldn't have come to me otherwise. Now, let us drop this amusing pretense. Your choice is quite simple. Take my terms, or don't. Save the unfortunate Miss Tillman, or watch her…well, you already know the worst case scenario, don't you Simone?"

Simone ground her hands against the chair back, making the wood squeal in protest. "If I do take your terms, what guarantee do I have?"

Imogene chuckled. "None, of course. I simply offer the opportunity for you to help your…friend. There are no absolutes Simone." Brusque footsteps sounded up the stairway behind them. One glittering hand outstretched, Imogene stood. "Decisions decisions darling. Time's up. Do we have a deal?"

* * *

It was the damn sand that woke her.

More of it fell off the nearby disintegrating wall as she shifted, rinsing across her in a wave of scratchy, pointed clods. As she groaned and rolled over, it further glued itself to her in a layer of sticky dank sweat between her skin and the rough sackcloth that was her clothes. It was absolutely scratching Annabelle raw. Bracing herself on the narrow cot, she very slowly swung her legs over the side, swaying a bit as she stood, half falling against the wall.

"God fucking…" she hissed, stretching her neck before abruptly stopping with a whine of pain. Her numb arms were bound behind her back, making made a real stretch difficult. Falling more than sitting back down on the rickety cot, she blinked at her surroundings through the fuzziness in her mind.

It took longer than it should have for her to realize that she had graduated to a different cell. Cracked linoleum had taken the place of hard swept sand, and somewhat cleaner and larger than the last. Instead of filth all over, rags and garbage was contained to the edges and corners of the room, with a cleared space in front of the thick door. In between spasms and by craning her neck, she was just able to see the city beyond through the sand caked basement window. Annabelle blinked heavily as she struggled to focus.

"It won't do you any good you know", said a dirty bundle of rags at the far corner of the room.

She blinked. It took almost a minute to voice the question.

"It. Why? Won't?" she finally mumbled.

"Exactly love. That's why." The rags shifted, very, very slowly resolving itself into rags and a pair of glasses. "They doped you to the gills again a few hours ago. Surprised you're this coherent actually". Rags ending in a bruised and scuffed hand lifted and pointed at her needle punctured arm. "Some more brown sugar to keep the process going. Fairly common love. Makes slaves more tractable." He eyed her. "Some anyway. That bloke seemed a bit put out at the mouse you put on his eye." A grimy smile revealed pearly white teeth. "Magnificent shot."

Her will oozed dripped through mental hands as Annabelle made herself focus. "Who are you?" she slurred, almost falling off the cot with the effort.

The ragman's smile faded. "Ah. Dr. R. Jonathan Petraus, cellmate extraordinaire, at your service, Miss Tillman" he said with a tattered flourish, swirling up a sneeze of sand. He cocked his head, looking at her contorted arms. "A bit of a risk, but that needs to come off before you pass out again", he said, gesturing at the bindings. "Hard to be in polite company with hooks for hands". Gentle hands picked at the tight, rough knot, until with a shuffle the strained fiber fell to the floor.

"Ah, there then. This will burn a bit." He continued, slowly easing her arms forward out of their cramped positions as she gritted her teeth against the pull, the pain giving her focus. "Big, wide stretching loops then, let us avoid blood clots if we may". His bare heels scratched against the grimy floor as he settled on his haunches, hands still gentle as he helped move her blood-starved limbs.

Her lips dry, Annabelle still managed, "So you're a Doctor?"

Petraus grimaced. "Indeed. Although I might as well have been a bricklayer for all that it's helped. Bloody idiot." With a wary glance at the door he slowly stood, revealing a rough spackling of mottled bruises along his jaw as he moved over to a covered bucket. He dipped in a tin cup before moving towards Annabelle and helping her drink. "This'll help a bit." Noticing her heavy eyes, he got her another dipper of water, "Drink. You need all you can get with the doses they're giving you." A clang followed by an indecipherable curse sounded through the door, makes both heads jerk up in alarm. Muffled footsteps ran along the corridor, ending with the slamming of a door.

Head cocked, Petraus listened to the quiet for a minute before relaxing again. Ignoring her grimace, he got her another cup of water. "They've been moving around all day. Whatever they're preparing for shouldn't be long now." Holding the cup to her cracked lips, he muttered, "bloody Bradley being bloody right as bloody always".

Annabelle's arms slugged to a stop as she stared at him. "What did you say?"

"What? Oh, not a thing. Just a co-worker of mine." At her intent look, he elaborated. "Irritating actually. She has the simply infuriating habit of being correct. Constantly. I remember only one instance of error, and it was such a grand mistake that by the end, it wasn't a mistake at all."

Ignoring the increasing brightness of the room, Annabelle gave a slow blink before she rubbed her eyes. "Sounds like her."

Petraus looked at her in surprise. "Oh? You know…"

"Simone? Yeah." An unconscious smile fled over her face, inadvertently fascinating Petraus in its intensity. Ignoring the water sloshing around in her empty stomach, Annabelle stood, quickly putting a hand against the wall as the room tilted. Scrubbing her arms to get off more of the clinging sand that was making her skin crawl; she once again came to the small, cracked window.

"Well, what a fantastic coincidence", Petraus finally said, leaning his head back against a stained wall. "Have you known her long then?"

A small twitch, what in another life could have been a smile. "Just about forever. Or a day." Giving up on getting any useful kind of view, Annabelle abandoned the window for the cot. Leaning back against the wall, she focused on Petraus, ignoring the creeping headache. "How long have you worked with her?"

Petraus cursed as he stretched out his own legs, trying to gently rub out the soreness as he spoke. "Keep working out your arms now. Ahh, I've been in this blessed hell for eight months, but only at that camp for six. Bradley was in country when I got here." He shrugged at her inquiring look. "She's not one for socializing, that one".

Annabelle gave a dry laugh, easing along the cot towards the water bucket.

"Ah. Now why do I think there's a story to be had?"

Annabelle drew the warm water, her hands shaking as she swallowed. "No story. Just old history."

It was a minute before recognition flared in Petraus' eyes. "Indeed. I apologize for my slowness. It's 'Annabelle' Tillman, isn't it? I watch the news but the details evade my attention at times. You're quite good, you know."

This time she managed a grin. "All except for the details, right?"

"Ah, well…damn." He blushed, rubbing his jaw in embarrassment. "Sorry".

A grinding clank interrupted them as the door opened.


End file.
